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 Afghanistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Newcleus to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Tres Demented,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Harry Pussy,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Make Up,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Matthew Halsall,
Swell Maps,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Seeds,
Pharoah Sanders,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Subhumans,
Barry Ungar,
Fela Kuti,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Germs,
Rhythm & Sound,
David Axelrod,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ken Boothe,
Max Romeo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jawbox,
Hoover,
Black Pus,
Wire,
Quadrant,
Crooked Eye,
The Real Kids,
Bob Dylan,
The Toasters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Agent Orange,
Robert Hood,
Model 500,
Funky Four + One,
the Normal,
Duran Duran,
Marc Almond,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Alison Limerick,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yusef Lateef,
Outsiders,
Buzzcocks,
The Trojans,
Aaron Thompson,
Roger Hodgson,
Qualms,
Alice Coltrane,
Rites of Spring,
Mark Hollis,
Traffic Nightmare,
Michelle Simonal,
Newcleus,
Wolf Eyes,
Alphaville,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.