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 Uruguay and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rites of Spring to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moebius,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Drexciya,
AZ,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Byrd,
In Retrospect,
Pulsallama,
EPMD,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Mummies,
Surgeon,
Nas,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Royal Trux,
Stiv Bators,
Ultra Naté,
the Normal,
Erykah Badu,
Metal Thangz,
DJ Style,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
John Foxx,
The Fall,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Dead C,
Isaac Hayes,
The Misunderstood,
Nik Kershaw,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone,
Bob Dylan,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Don Cherry,
Eve St. Jones,
Lower 48,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gil Scott Heron,
Amazonics,
The Busters,
Franke,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sällskapet,
Kayak,
Ornette Coleman,
The Slits,
kango's stein massive,
Crime,
Gong,
Fluxion,
Sixth Finger,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cramps,
Nick Fraelich,
Rakim,
Josef K,
the Human League,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.