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 Eritrea and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Sun City Girls to the disco 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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Accadde A tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tres Demented,
The Cure,
David Bowie,
Nirvana,
The Sonics,
Quadrant,
Junior Murvin,
Barry Ungar,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Kinks,
Roger Hodgson,
Scrapy,
the Sonics,
Sixth Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
The Red Krayola,
The Residents,
Ronnie Foster,
Dave Gahan,
The Divine Comedy,
The Golliwogs,
Cluster,
The Real Kids,
Stetsasonic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultra Naté,
Rod Modell,
The American Breed,
Interpol,
The Blues Magoos,
The Knickerbockers,
Bluetip,
the Bar-Kays,
Harry Pussy,
Joe Finger,
Janne Schatter,
Iggy Pop,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Sheep,
F. McDonald,
Thompson Twins,
Vainqueur,
Lalann,
a-ha,
Sonic Youth,
Magazine,
OOIOO,
Alison Limerick,
Franke,
Brass Construction,
Ornette Coleman,
Bill Wells,
EPMD,
Groovy Waters,
Soul II Soul,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Pulsallama,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.