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 Bahamas and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the grunge 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Pussy Galore,
Letta Mbulu,
ABBA,
Grauzone,
Grey Daturas,
Sonny Sharrock,
Andrew Hill,
Au Pairs,
The Walker Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Sandy B,
New York Dolls,
Sparks,
Lindisfarne,
Eve St. Jones,
Technova,
Negative Approach,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eric Copeland,
Marmalade,
Blossom Toes,
Dawn Penn,
Qualms,
Slave,
The Human League,
Lou Christie,
Eurythmics,
Donald Byrd,
Procol Harum,
Oneida,
Quando Quango,
Scientists,
Bobby Sherman,
Stetsasonic,
Scan 7,
Bang On A Can,
T. Rex,
Henry Cow,
Amazonics,
Lucky Dragons,
Pharoah Sanders,
Siglo XX,
Ossler,
The Mummies,
The Fall,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pylon,
The Remains,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cowsills,
The Skatalites,
Joe Smooth,
John Holt,
Flipper,
These Immortal Souls,
the Human League,
Outsiders,
Chris & Cosey,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Move,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.