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 Nepal and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Porter Ricks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Warsaw,
Chris Corsano,
Nik Kershaw,
Tomorrow,
Barry Ungar,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Symarip,
Gang of Four,
Fluxion,
Janne Schatter,
Hashim,
Rekid,
Desert Stars,
Swans,
Con Funk Shun,
Spoonie Gee,
Matthew Bourne,
Soulsonic Force,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
X-102,
Beasts of Bourbon,
One Last Wish,
Nas,
Hot Snakes,
Angry Samoans,
Eden Ahbez,
the Germs,
10cc,
The Fall,
Freddie Wadling,
Don Cherry,
New York Dolls,
Yazoo,
Pantytec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Todd Rundgren,
Ludus,
Absolute Body Control,
Reuben Wilson,
The Stooges,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Dead Boys,
Ultravox,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
The Seeds,
Scientists,
Lungfish,
The Mojo Men,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Quadrant,
Neil Young,
Pharoah Sanders,
MDC,
Essential Logic,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.