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 Mexico and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wire,
Lindisfarne,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Stooges,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris Corsano,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Unwound,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Blackbyrds,
Ronan,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Slackers,
Angry Samoans,
Soulsonic Force,
Skaos,
Inner City,
cv313,
Rod Modell,
Dennis Brown,
Kerrie Biddell,
Janne Schatter,
Erykah Badu,
Mr. Review,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dawn Penn,
Jawbox,
Bauhaus,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bad Manners,
Don Cherry,
Prince Buster,
Agitation Free,
Morten Harket,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arthur Verocai,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marcia Griffiths,
New York Dolls,
Kevin Saunderson,
Das Ding,
Lou Christie,
Tim Buckley,
Darondo,
Niagra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Depeche Mode,
Althea and Donna,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Golliwogs,
The Fall,
Tommy Roe,
Howard Jones,
Scion,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.