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 Honduras and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Gories to the techno 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 Human League. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Slits,
The Red Krayola,
Suicide,
The Vogues,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Robert Hood,
The Monks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Althea and Donna,
The Dave Clark Five,
China Crisis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sun City Girls,
The Monochrome Set,
Radiopuhelimet,
DJ Sneak,
Magazine,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Blues Magoos,
Idris Muhammad,
Steve Hackett,
Flash Fearless,
Derrick May,
Interpol,
Chris Corsano,
Pantaleimon,
The Buckinghams,
The Slackers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marcia Griffiths,
Byron Stingily,
The Doobie Brothers,
Fad Gadget,
Ultra Naté,
John Lydon,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Real Kids,
Kas Product,
JFA,
Adolescents,
Jeff Mills,
Faraquet,
AZ,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sex Pistols,
Popol Vuh,
Silicon Teens,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Franke,
One Last Wish,
Terrestrial Tones,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gichy Dan,
Minor Threat,
the Soft Cell,
The Victims,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Divine Comedy,
June of 44,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.