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 Ethiopia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 synthesizer 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 Fifty Foot Hose to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Q and Not U record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Chris & Cosey,
Rakim,
Joy Division,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cymande,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Saints,
Symarip,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Aural Exciters,
Bronski Beat,
Duran Duran,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cecil Taylor,
Talk Talk,
Liliput,
Tears for Fears,
Connie Case,
Deadbeat,
The Sound,
Scratch Acid,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Warsaw,
The Victims,
Maleditus Sound,
The Trojans,
Lee Hazlewood,
Malaria!,
Graham Central Station,
Skaos,
Todd Rundgren,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Busters,
The United States of America,
Wally Richardson,
Blake Baxter,
Tim Buckley,
The Index,
Skarface,
Kool Moe Dee,
Average White Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Peter & Gordon,
Bob Dylan,
the Association,
Sister Nancy,
Moby Grape,
Bill Near,
kango's stein massive,
FM Einheit,
ABC,
Groovy Waters,
Jandek,
Accadde A,
Pussy Galore,
F. McDonald,
H. Thieme,
Morten Harket,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.