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 Armenia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 mellotron 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Yazoo,
The Fugs,
the Fania All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ice-T,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Moon,
The Mummies,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Raincoats,
ABC,
Monks,
Lindisfarne,
JFA,
The Victims,
Robert Görl,
The Black Dice,
Lalann,
Nico,
FM Einheit,
Deepchord,
The Stooges,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Surgeon,
Fat Boys,
Silicon Teens,
The Misunderstood,
Talk Talk,
Black Pus,
Adolescents,
Eve St. Jones,
Eurythmics,
Essential Logic,
Gong,
Inner City,
The Saints,
Depeche Mode,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
The Golliwogs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Doors,
Mary Jane Girls,
Popol Vuh,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Dead Boys,
Bauhaus,
Bush Tetras,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Make Up,
the Human League,
Eric Dolphy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Model 500,
Section 25,
Sexual Harrassment,
Graham Central Station,
the Swans,
Colin Newman,
The Grass Roots,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.