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 Slovenia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord 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 Wire to the grunge 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
Carl Craig,
Can,
Nick Fraelich,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
Derrick Morgan,
Basic Channel,
F. McDonald,
Banda Bassotti,
Chris Corsano,
Lungfish,
Boredoms,
MC5,
Scrapy,
Franke,
The Birthday Party,
Marmalade,
a-ha,
Ice-T,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bang On A Can,
H. Thieme,
Boz Scaggs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tropical Tobacco,
Barclay James Harvest,
Barbara Tucker,
June Days,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Neon Judgement,
The Beau Brummels,
Sonic Youth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Desert Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lou Reed,
Saccharine Trust,
Delon & Dalcan,
David Axelrod,
Slick Rick,
Terrestrial Tones,
Audionom,
Duran Duran,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Blossom Toes,
The Remains,
Severed Heads,
John Cale,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Moon,
The Litter,
The Mummies,
Depeche Mode,
Godley & Creme,
The Doobie Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Skriet,
Scott Walker,
The United States of America,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.