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 Norway and from New York.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 guitar 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 Marine Girls to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dorothy Ashby 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Adolescents,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Metal Thangz,
Thee Headcoats,
Mantronix,
Newcleus,
Hashim,
Barbara Tucker,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pulsallama,
Andrew Hill,
Soul II Soul,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hot Snakes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fatback Band,
Youth Brigade,
Dorothy Ashby,
David McCallum,
Faust,
Dead Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Angry Samoans,
Black Bananas,
Tears for Fears,
Trumans Water,
Juan Atkins,
Main Source,
Tres Demented,
Lalann,
Panda Bear,
The Gladiators,
Icehouse,
Kas Product,
Godley & Creme,
B.T. Express,
Smog,
The Beau Brummels,
Harmonia,
The Mummies,
The Divine Comedy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Audionom,
Marmalade,
Monolake,
The Durutti Column,
The Moody Blues,
Scott Walker,
Ten City,
KRS-One,
Au Pairs,
Patti Smith,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scratch Acid,
Rod Modell,
Erykah Badu,
Loose Ends,
Nik Kershaw,
The Evens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.