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 Slovakia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Deakin to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Beau Brummels,
Lucky Dragons,
Henry Cow,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Soul Sonic Force,
Drive Like Jehu,
ABC,
Groovy Waters,
The Residents,
The Kinks,
The Index,
Gregory Isaacs,
David Axelrod,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Public Enemy,
The Five Americans,
Mantronix,
Pussy Galore,
The Mojo Men,
The Slackers,
The Pretty Things,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Don Cherry,
Kayak,
Dennis Brown,
Oneida,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mad Mike,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lightning Bolt,
Excepter,
The Techniques,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deepchord,
Ronnie Foster,
The Seeds,
Marvin Gaye,
John Lydon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Hardrive,
The Smoke,
Bobby Womack,
Agent Orange,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tubeway Army,
Crooked Eye,
EPMD,
The Golliwogs,
Suicide,
Laurel Aitken,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Avey Tare,
Jacques Brel,
Bizarre Inc.,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.