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 Ghana 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Maurizio to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Angry Samoans,
Amon Düül,
X-102,
Quando Quango,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Alarm Clocks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pantytec,
Reagan Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marine Girls,
Bush Tetras,
Henry Cow,
Blancmange,
the Bar-Kays,
Nico,
Bobby Womack,
Eric Copeland,
Fear,
Don Cherry,
The Doors,
Sight & Sound,
Alice Coltrane,
Radio Birdman,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Panda Bear,
Joey Negro,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pet Shop Boys,
Cecil Taylor,
Todd Rundgren,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sparks,
Harmonia,
Interpol,
The Moleskins,
Byron Stingily,
Dave Gahan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Electric Prunes,
Black Bananas,
The Golliwogs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pagans,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sound,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Von Mondo,
H. Thieme,
X-Ray Spex,
Thee Headcoats,
Soulsonic Force,
Fat Boys,
Mantronix,
Visage,
D'Angelo,
Magazine,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.