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 Grenada and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Sao Paulo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cluster to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Crash Course in Science,
Patti Smith,
R.M.O.,
Eddi Front,
The Martian,
the Sonics,
Crime,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Joyce Sims,
Popol Vuh,
Talk Talk,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
In Retrospect,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cramps,
LL Cool J,
Mission of Burma,
Nirvana,
Andrew Hill,
Lyres,
Swans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
T. Rex,
Eve St. Jones,
Stiv Bators,
The Leaves,
Matthew Bourne,
Grauzone,
Bobby Womack,
Danielle Patucci,
Marine Girls,
Pole,
FM Einheit,
Drexciya,
K-Klass,
The Fuzztones,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
the Human League,
Joe Finger,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Derrick Morgan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slave,
Country Joe & The Fish,
ABBA,
Arcadia,
Judy Mowatt,
Underground Resistance,
Sarah Menescal,
Ten City,
Das Ding,
Dave Gahan,
Ronan,
The Gories,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.