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 Liechtenstein and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
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 rhodes 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 Visage to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Durutti Column record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
The Red Krayola,
Basic Channel,
Bluetip,
The Divine Comedy,
Delta 5,
Brass Construction,
Surgeon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Agitation Free,
Bill Wells,
Sarah Menescal,
David McCallum,
The Velvet Underground,
Model 500,
Banda Bassotti,
Crash Course in Science,
James White and The Blacks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
JFA,
Jandek,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Connie Case,
the Bar-Kays,
Little Man,
L. Decosne,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Matthew Bourne,
Guru Guru,
The Star Department,
Warsaw,
Sex Pistols,
Isaac Hayes,
Black Bananas,
Deakin,
Gichy Dan,
The Detroit Cobras,
10cc,
The Modern Lovers,
The Mojo Men,
Pantaleimon,
K-Klass,
Vladislav Delay,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Ten City,
Bad Manners,
The Offenders,
The Names,
The Real Kids,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nas,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slackers,
Donald Byrd,
a-ha,
The Leaves,
Dave Gahan,
China Crisis,
Slave,
Skriet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Mission of Burma,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.