Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Albania and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Black Dice to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Ken Boothe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lee Hazlewood,
Shuggie Otis,
New York Dolls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Techniques,
Prince Buster,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Duran Duran,
KRS-One,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eric Copeland,
Fugazi,
The Mummies,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The American Breed,
the Sonics,
Siglo XX,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
8 Eyed Spy,
Tears for Fears,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Black Dice,
The Misunderstood,
Parry Music,
The Five Americans,
The Star Department,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
Symarip,
Joe Finger,
Silicon Teens,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Beau Brummels,
Y Pants,
The Walker Brothers,
Spandau Ballet,
Neu!,
David Bowie,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Television Personalities,
The Doobie Brothers,
Alphaville,
Pantytec,
Fad Gadget,
Deadbeat,
Mission of Burma,
Bob Dylan,
Morten Harket,
Frankie Knuckles,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Flag,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
In Retrospect,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Iggy Pop,
Curtis Mayfield,
Funkadelic,
The Birthday Party,
The Cramps,
10cc,
Panda Bear,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.