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 Zimbabwe and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pop Group to the grunge 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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Depeche Mode,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Procol Harum,
Faraquet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Babytalk,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pantytec,
Rekid,
The Misunderstood,
Marcia Griffiths,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Happenings,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bush Tetras,
Pulsallama,
The Dead C,
Faust,
Eden Ahbez,
Grey Daturas,
Gabor Szabo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Eve St. Jones,
a-ha,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Index,
Todd Rundgren,
The Human League,
Mantronix,
Trumans Water,
Tom Boy,
Can,
Mr. Review,
Unwound,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The J.B.'s,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Beau Brummels,
Morten Harket,
the Association,
Altered Images,
Aloha Tigers,
Jandek,
KRS-One,
Gang Gang Dance,
Rufus Thomas,
Parry Music,
Ituana,
Flash Fearless,
Cybotron,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Busters,
Severed Heads,
Todd Terry,
Metal Thangz,
Symarip,
DNA,
Gichy Dan,
FM Einheit,
Matthew Halsall,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.