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 Syria and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Donald Fagen 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 Gang Gang Dance to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Dave Gahan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
Aural Exciters,
Crooked Eye,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kenny Larkin,
Piero Umiliani,
Avey Tare,
D'Angelo,
Thompson Twins,
the Sonics,
Model 500,
Anakelly,
Althea and Donna,
Andrew Hill,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Delta 5,
Tim Buckley,
Crispy Ambulance,
Von Mondo,
Nik Kershaw,
Rites of Spring,
Darondo,
John Holt,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
Excepter,
Joe Finger,
The Flesh Eaters,
Organ,
John Coltrane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Youth Brigade,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Television,
Black Flag,
Steve Hackett,
Franke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Infiniti,
Rapeman,
Nation of Ulysses,
Junior Murvin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bad Manners,
Massinfluence,
Wings,
Spandau Ballet,
Monolake,
The Alarm Clocks,
Echospace,
Amazonics,
Minor Threat,
Throbbing Gristle,
Brass Construction,
Duran Duran,
Tears for Fears,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.