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 Greece 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
The Monks,
Sex Pistols,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Royal Trux,
The Move,
Big Daddy Kane,
Howard Jones,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Faust,
MC5,
Khruangbin,
The Music Machine,
Sonny Sharrock,
Glenn Branca,
Goldenarms,
Young Marble Giants,
Monolake,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Q and Not U,
Fela Kuti,
Kayak,
The Buckinghams,
Mary Jane Girls,
Max Romeo,
The Sonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
K-Klass,
Roxy Music,
Amon Düül,
Swans,
Barry Ungar,
Section 25,
Shoche,
Carl Craig,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Vogues,
Toni Rubio,
Marine Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Severed Heads,
Flipper,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nirvana,
The Pretty Things,
Eli Mardock,
Saccharine Trust,
Surgeon,
Rapeman,
The Dirtbombs,
Scientists,
The Raincoats,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Skaos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Soft Machine,
the Soft Cell,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.