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 Equatorial Guinea and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lalann to the disco 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 Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gabor Szabo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Archie Shepp,
Sun Ra,
Mr. Review,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June Days,
Yaz,
Blossom Toes,
The Fall,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Zapp,
The Selecter,
Howard Jones,
the Human League,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Suburban Knight,
Lakeside,
Wolf Eyes,
Electric Prunes,
Sixth Finger,
Popol Vuh,
The Black Dice,
Nils Olav,
Jacob Miller,
Mad Mike,
Y Pants,
Soft Cell,
Gil Scott Heron,
Organ,
Masters at Work,
Banda Bassotti,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Fuzztones,
Sun City Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Maleditus Sound,
Joe Smooth,
Inner City,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Parry Music,
La Düsseldorf,
Alice Coltrane,
Basic Channel,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amon Düül,
Wings,
FM Einheit,
Eden Ahbez,
Toni Rubio,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Cure,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Starr,
T. Rex,
Bill Wells,
Joy Division,
Hasil Adkins,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.