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 Luxembourg and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dead C to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doors,
Pierre Henry,
Bob Dylan,
The Angels of Light,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Charles Mingus,
Ohio Players,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deepchord,
Agent Orange,
Terrestrial Tones,
Ultravox,
Kerri Chandler,
The Fortunes,
Todd Rundgren,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bill Wells,
Wally Richardson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Au Pairs,
E-Dancer,
Roy Ayers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Invisible,
Eric Copeland,
Sex Pistols,
Dave Gahan,
Lightning Bolt,
The Five Americans,
Quantec,
One Last Wish,
Flipper,
Young Marble Giants,
The Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Bang On A Can,
the Normal,
Radiohead,
Jacques Brel,
F. McDonald,
Zero Boys,
Guru Guru,
Mad Mike,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Nick Fraelich,
Frankie Knuckles,
Reagan Youth,
K-Klass,
Pylon,
Dark Day,
Duran Duran,
Theoretical Girls,
The Shadows of Knight,
Severed Heads,
Nirvana,
Soulsonic Force,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oneida,
X-102,
Sister Nancy,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.