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 Croatia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Sexual Harrassment to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo 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 synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Aswad,
Neu!,
Moby Grape,
The Saints,
The Beau Brummels,
Carl Craig,
Minnie Riperton,
The United States of America,
Lou Reed,
Bobby Byrd,
Aural Exciters,
Gichy Dan,
the Bar-Kays,
The Searchers,
Tom Boy,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cybotron,
Skriet,
Alison Limerick,
Mission of Burma,
Cal Tjader,
Boz Scaggs,
Rekid,
Yazoo,
The Birthday Party,
Tres Demented,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
OOIOO,
Popol Vuh,
Gastr Del Sol,
Urselle,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Whodini,
The Remains,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Joy Division,
Cymande,
Silicon Teens,
Babytalk,
Main Source,
the Swans,
Joe Finger,
Crash Course in Science,
Parry Music,
Warsaw,
D'Angelo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ultimate Spinach,
Slave,
Kerri Chandler,
Goldenarms,
Zero Boys,
Underground Resistance,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.