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 Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Joy Division to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Shadows of Knight. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
Ronnie Foster,
Black Sheep,
Black Bananas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Deakin,
New Order,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Byrd,
Sam Rivers,
Lungfish,
Radio Birdman,
Scion,
Absolute Body Control,
Hashim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Blues Magoos,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Procol Harum,
The Monks,
The Velvet Underground,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lalann,
Grey Daturas,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Icehouse,
Scott Walker,
Gang Green,
Sister Nancy,
Colin Newman,
Babytalk,
One Last Wish,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ludus,
Khruangbin,
Kas Product,
Q65,
Minny Pops,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ken Boothe,
Das Ding,
Aaron Thompson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Average White Band,
Minnie Riperton,
Moebius,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Prince Buster,
Qualms,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stereo Dub,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sugar Minott,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
R.M.O.,
Ultravox,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.