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 Singapore and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer 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 Roger Hodgson 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Motorama,
Dave Gahan,
Minnie Riperton,
Laurel Aitken,
Piero Umiliani,
The Mojo Men,
The Gun Club,
Hot Snakes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed,
The Gories,
The Litter,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Trumans Water,
Minutemen,
This Heat,
The Cowsills,
Curtis Mayfield,
Silicon Teens,
Josef K,
The J.B.'s,
Khruangbin,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Normal,
La Düsseldorf,
Von Mondo,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Derrick Morgan,
Ice-T,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Offenders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
Deakin,
The Tremeloes,
Harry Pussy,
Lindisfarne,
the Soft Cell,
Roxy Music,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Black Dice,
Kerri Chandler,
Con Funk Shun,
F. McDonald,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The New Christs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hasil Adkins,
Fugazi,
Reuben Wilson,
Radiopuhelimet,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bill Wells,
Joey Negro,
Monks,
Archie Shepp,
Procol Harum,
New York Dolls,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.