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 Liechtenstein and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Human League to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mark Hollis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Ken Boothe,
David Axelrod,
Nik Kershaw,
The Names,
Rites of Spring,
Crispy Ambulance,
Peter & Gordon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Sherman,
Lower 48,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Gap Band,
Oblivians,
Gerry Rafferty,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Das Ding,
Bluetip,
Second Layer,
The Shadows of Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Carl Craig,
The Victims,
Lindisfarne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Faraquet,
Joe Smooth,
Bronski Beat,
The Busters,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Echospace,
Mo-Dettes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Roger Hodgson,
Parry Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Aaron Thompson,
Camouflage,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Last Poets,
Joyce Sims,
Gichy Dan,
Spandau Ballet,
Underground Resistance,
The New Christs,
Gong,
Quadrant,
Soft Machine,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Walker Brothers,
John Cale,
Black Moon,
Hardrive,
Lou Reed,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.