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 Iceland and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 UT. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
B.T. Express,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Slave,
Grauzone,
Aswad,
Rotary Connection,
Eric Copeland,
Panda Bear,
Nas,
Bush Tetras,
Camouflage,
Severed Heads,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Livin' Joy,
Hoover,
Cymande,
Lou Christie,
The Cure,
Fort Wilson Riot,
10cc,
X-101,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Little Man,
Rekid,
Brothers Johnson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Isaac Hayes,
Make Up,
The Martian,
Erasure,
Slick Rick,
Aural Exciters,
The Vogues,
the Human League,
Hardrive,
Main Source,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dawn Penn,
Warsaw,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cybotron,
Index,
Warren Ellis,
The Sound,
Kenny Larkin,
Drexciya,
The Trojans,
Suicide,
ABBA,
The Velvet Underground,
The Offenders,
Monks,
Supertramp,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rod Modell,
Section 25,
Deadbeat,
June Days,
Todd Rundgren,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.