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 Micronesia and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Bob Dylan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scion,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Grandmaster Flash,
Soft Machine,
Lou Christie,
Soul Sonic Force,
James White and The Blacks,
The Evens,
Roxy Music,
Soulsonic Force,
U.S. Maple,
Pagans,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Görl,
The Mojo Men,
Average White Band,
Dual Sessions,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Cure,
Scott Walker,
Lyres,
Johnny Clarke,
The Angels of Light,
Deakin,
Faraquet,
Dawn Penn,
Bad Manners,
Lalo Schifrin,
Television,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Durutti Column,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tubeway Army,
Roger Hodgson,
Barrington Levy,
Kerri Chandler,
The Gap Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Gerry Rafferty,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young,
Boogie Down Productions,
Jandek,
MDC,
Ralphi Rosario,
Second Layer,
Joyce Sims,
Moebius,
Cheater Slicks,
The Velvet Underground,
Dead Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
The Buckinghams,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Desert Stars,
Buzzcocks,
The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs, The Golliwogs.
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.