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 Netherlands and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Freddie Wadling to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
B.T. Express,
Ten City,
Pole,
Skarface,
Harry Pussy,
Goldenarms,
Desert Stars,
Index,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
World's Most,
Sandy B,
Kayak,
Slave,
John Lydon,
David Bowie,
The New Christs,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maurizio,
Warsaw,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Technova,
Brick,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Stooges,
The Detroit Cobras,
Pulsallama,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Gil Scott Heron,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Brand Nubian,
Agitation Free,
Amazonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Franke,
John Holt,
Eden Ahbez,
The Pretty Things,
Soulsonic Force,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
F. McDonald,
Barbara Tucker,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
cv313,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wasted Youth,
Q and Not U,
Dave Gahan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Trumans Water,
The Fuzztones,
Moss Icon,
Rufus Thomas,
Massinfluence,
Angry Samoans,
Dead Boys,
Man Eating Sloth,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.