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 Hungary and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 oboe 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 The Happenings to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fuzztones,
the Sonics,
Electric Prunes,
Panda Bear,
The Zeros,
The American Breed,
Lakeside,
Saccharine Trust,
New Order,
Grauzone,
Simply Red,
Altered Images,
Flipper,
Icehouse,
Oneida,
Maurizio,
Talk Talk,
Faust,
Funkadelic,
KRS-One,
Robert Hood,
Toni Rubio,
Stiv Bators,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ronnie Foster,
PIL,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lightning Bolt,
The Music Machine,
John Holt,
Gregory Isaacs,
Porter Ricks,
The Mummies,
The Moleskins,
Graham Central Station,
Radiohead,
These Immortal Souls,
FM Einheit,
Albert Ayler,
The Star Department,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun City Girls,
48th St. Collective,
Davy DMX,
Rekid,
Au Pairs,
Ohio Players,
Sandy B,
Althea and Donna,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Mantronix,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Glenn Branca,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Durutti Column,
Donny Hathaway,
Amazonics,
Whodini,
Roy Ayers,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.