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 Guyana and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro 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 Ituana to the dance 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Depeche Mode,
Blake Baxter,
Spoonie Gee,
Henry Cow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Crispy Ambulance,
PIL,
Lou Christie,
Robert Görl,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
Althea and Donna,
The Residents,
Ultravox,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Grass Roots,
Joensuu 1685,
Cluster,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Selecter,
Brothers Johnson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pharoah Sanders,
Warren Ellis,
Minor Threat,
Reagan Youth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Japan,
Black Bananas,
The Fire Engines,
The Evens,
The Dead C,
Soft Cell,
The Zeros,
Half Japanese,
Don Cherry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
Angry Samoans,
The Birthday Party,
Jawbox,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kenny Larkin,
The Doors,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David McCallum,
The Divine Comedy,
Agitation Free,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Real Kids,
Kaleidoscope,
Organ,
Sandy B,
Barrington Levy,
Pagans,
Eric Copeland,
Amazonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
London Community Gospel Choir,
CMW,
H. Thieme,
Curtis Mayfield,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.