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 Senegal and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Lou Reed 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 Smiths 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every cv313 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Graham Central Station,
The Doobie Brothers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Steve Hackett,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Moon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
48th St. Collective,
June of 44,
The Mummies,
Rakim,
Kayak,
Bootsy Collins,
Organ,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Womack,
T. Rex,
Agitation Free,
The Music Machine,
The Shadows of Knight,
the Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
Siglo XX,
Ronan,
Pole,
The Fuzztones,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gil Scott Heron,
Camberwell Now,
Section 25,
the Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Marvin Gaye,
Bobby Byrd,
Banda Bassotti,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Los Fastidios,
Soft Cell,
Parry Music,
Suicide,
kango's stein massive,
Television,
Jandek,
The Pretty Things,
Niagra,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Monolake,
Das Ding,
Moby Grape,
Colin Newman,
Audionom,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Max Romeo,
Rufus Thomas,
X-102,
A Certain Ratio,
The Kinks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.