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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Oneida,
Scientists,
Barbara Tucker,
Visage,
Rekid,
the Slits,
The Black Dice,
The Leaves,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang Starr,
Second Layer,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quando Quango,
The Alarm Clocks,
DJ Sneak,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Stereo Dub,
The Slackers,
The Monochrome Set,
Freddie Wadling,
Faraquet,
The Human League,
Swell Maps,
Scion,
Soft Cell,
Black Flag,
Gichy Dan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Grass Roots,
Sexual Harrassment,
Hasil Adkins,
The Pretty Things,
Nils Olav,
Robert Hood,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mars,
Marvin Gaye,
The Music Machine,
Mandrill,
Mantronix,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Lebanon Hanover,
Johnny Clarke,
Y Pants,
Circle Jerks,
Scott Walker,
Ronnie Foster,
John Coltrane,
Ultra Naté,
Mad Mike,
Dark Day,
The Moleskins,
The Neon Judgement,
The Beau Brummels,
Roger Hodgson,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.