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 Morocco and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Invisible record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Lindisfarne,
Black Moon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Swans,
Organ,
Bill Near,
The Durutti Column,
Funkadelic,
The Modern Lovers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
KRS-One,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kerrie Biddell,
Rotary Connection,
Deepchord,
Mary Jane Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rufus Thomas,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Holt,
Mandrill,
Von Mondo,
Bronski Beat,
Con Funk Shun,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Be Bop Deluxe,
June of 44,
The Smiths,
Hasil Adkins,
CMW,
Ronan,
Barry Ungar,
Piero Umiliani,
Symarip,
These Immortal Souls,
Wasted Youth,
Procol Harum,
Japan,
Index,
Scion,
The Golliwogs,
Stereo Dub,
Second Layer,
T. Rex,
ABC,
Jeru the Damaja,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blancmange,
Whodini,
Fela Kuti,
The Walker Brothers,
Kenny Larkin,
John Coltrane,
Sam Rivers,
Jerry's Kids,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Buckinghams,
The Moleskins,
The Fire Engines,
The Residents,
The Toasters,
Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants, Young Marble Giants.
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.