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 Belarus and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pole to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Grauzone,
The Techniques,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Young Rascals,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Public Enemy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The American Breed,
Ultravox,
The Count Five,
Maleditus Sound,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
Kurtis Blow,
Steve Hackett,
Pussy Galore,
Youth Brigade,
Terrestrial Tones,
Von Mondo,
Blancmange,
Joe Smooth,
The Golliwogs,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Human League,
Spandau Ballet,
H. Thieme,
Agitation Free,
the Fania All-Stars,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young,
Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
The Remains,
Slave,
Rotary Connection,
Visage,
The Velvet Underground,
Circle Jerks,
John Foxx,
ABBA,
Silicon Teens,
The Residents,
T.S.O.L.,
Derrick Morgan,
Bang On A Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Suicide,
Siglo XX,
Tomorrow,
Ossler,
ABC,
Bush Tetras,
The Gories,
Soft Machine,
Television Personalities,
Scott Walker,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.