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 Jamaica and from Lille.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 sitar 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 Nico to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 A Certain Ratio. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Pus,
E-Dancer,
Section 25,
Hoover,
Con Funk Shun,
Alison Limerick,
Buzzcocks,
Anakelly,
Cybotron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nico,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cameo,
Tres Demented,
Boredoms,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
X-101,
Avey Tare,
Ultra Naté,
The Smiths,
Jandek,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Flipper,
Sällskapet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Essential Logic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dead Boys,
The Dead C,
Country Teasers,
Joe Smooth,
David Axelrod,
Urselle,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Delon & Dalcan,
Althea and Donna,
Suburban Knight,
Smog,
Masters at Work,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Yusef Lateef,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Toasters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Darondo,
H. Thieme,
Oneida,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Byrd,
Pulsallama,
AZ,
June of 44,
These Immortal Souls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sam Rivers,
Camberwell Now,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.