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 Congo and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Nirvana to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Visage,
Swans,
Flipper,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Morten Harket,
Aswad,
the Normal,
Henry Cow,
B.T. Express,
Camberwell Now,
The Smoke,
Maurizio,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers,
Laurel Aitken,
The Fall,
Sex Pistols,
Magazine,
Gong,
Deepchord,
EPMD,
Tres Demented,
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
The Busters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rhythm & Sound,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Mad Mike,
Mandrill,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Radiopuhelimet,
Stereo Dub,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Pere Ubu,
Marvin Gaye,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Residents,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tommy Roe,
Con Funk Shun,
Cecil Taylor,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Infiniti,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Arthur Verocai,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Rod Modell,
Brass Construction,
Technova,
48th St. Collective,
David Bowie,
Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode, Depeche Mode.
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.