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 Grenada and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mighty Diamonds to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Japan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mark Hollis,
Pantytec,
Aswad,
Joe Smooth,
Sister Nancy,
Mad Mike,
Terry Callier,
Pantaleimon,
Ohio Players,
Model 500,
Bronski Beat,
Minny Pops,
Glenn Branca,
In Retrospect,
Saccharine Trust,
Hasil Adkins,
Nils Olav,
H. Thieme,
John Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bush Tetras,
The J.B.'s,
Rod Modell,
Black Bananas,
Chris Corsano,
Metal Thangz,
Silicon Teens,
Wasted Youth,
ABC,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Von Mondo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joe Finger,
The Names,
Neu!,
Alphaville,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Livin' Joy,
Hoover,
Aloha Tigers,
David McCallum,
Todd Terry,
Mr. Review,
Duran Duran,
The Real Kids,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Procol Harum,
The Searchers,
New York Dolls,
Man Eating Sloth,
DJ Style,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Sheep,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.