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 Chile and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Lou Reed 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scientists. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Techniques record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Smoke,
Roger Hodgson,
The Knickerbockers,
Darondo,
Crime,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radio Birdman,
T. Rex,
Kayak,
Hoover,
Juan Atkins,
Fatback Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Ludus,
Sound Behaviour,
a-ha,
Brand Nubian,
Hasil Adkins,
Howard Jones,
Stiv Bators,
Marshall Jefferson,
Heaven 17,
Siglo XX,
Danielle Patucci,
Goldenarms,
Can,
Reuben Wilson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Davy DMX,
Aswad,
Lungfish,
Ituana,
Radiohead,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Sonics,
Qualms,
Outsiders,
The Toasters,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
X-Ray Spex,
Marvin Gaye,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Monolake,
Yusef Lateef,
Joy Division,
JFA,
New Age Steppers,
Kaleidoscope,
Funky Four + One,
David McCallum,
Sex Pistols,
The Index,
Metal Thangz,
The Raincoats,
Anthony Braxton,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Talk Talk,
The Cramps,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.