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 Singapore and from New York.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 T. Rex 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 Popol Vuh. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Pylon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Dual Sessions,
Gang of Four,
Babytalk,
Quantec,
The Misunderstood,
Eli Mardock,
The Motions,
Man Parrish,
Kurtis Blow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Donny Hathaway,
The Searchers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Motorama,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Adolescents,
Wally Richardson,
New Age Steppers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Aswad,
Johnny Clarke,
X-Ray Spex,
Lebanon Hanover,
Suburban Knight,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Grass Roots,
Sandy B,
The Seeds,
Kenny Larkin,
Marmalade,
Pantaleimon,
June of 44,
Brothers Johnson,
Monks,
Boredoms,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Livin' Joy,
Gang Green,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mission of Burma,
Second Layer,
Wolf Eyes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Khruangbin,
Anakelly,
Black Pus,
Avey Tare,
Minor Threat,
Lungfish,
The Toasters,
Suicide,
Clear Light,
Lightning Bolt,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Susan Cadogan,
The Buckinghams,
Loose Ends,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.