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 Kazakhstan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Unrelated Segments to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All The Music Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Birthday Party 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?
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Rotary Connection,
Lou Christie,
Gabor Szabo,
Dark Day,
Vainqueur,
Blossom Toes,
Procol Harum,
Outsiders,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Chris & Cosey,
Warsaw,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Monochrome Set,
Gong,
The Raincoats,
Intrusion,
The Detroit Cobras,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang of Four,
Arthur Verocai,
Jawbox,
Marmalade,
Duran Duran,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Hood,
Camberwell Now,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pere Ubu,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Gladiators,
Los Fastidios,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
The Saints,
Talk Talk,
Pylon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
Fear,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lower 48,
Bush Tetras,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Amon Düül II,
Con Funk Shun,
Spandau Ballet,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Scratch Acid,
Roy Ayers,
Delta 5,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
John Foxx,
Jimmy McGriff,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fugazi,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.