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 Vanuatu and from Johannesburg.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 linndrum 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 Wasted Youth to the jazz 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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Roy Ayers,
Toni Rubio,
The Associates,
Malaria!,
A Certain Ratio,
Bill Wells,
Eve St. Jones,
The Cowsills,
Faraquet,
Y Pants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Vogues,
The Move,
The Smoke,
Delta 5,
The Smiths,
Deakin,
Gichy Dan,
The Happenings,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Black Dice,
Bang On A Can,
Pet Shop Boys,
Goldenarms,
Rekid,
DNA,
Kayak,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Connie Case,
Jerry's Kids,
The Names,
Moebius,
Pole,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ultravox,
Mo-Dettes,
Fela Kuti,
Dead Boys,
Junior Murvin,
L. Decosne,
the Swans,
Fluxion,
Gil Scott Heron,
Aaron Thompson,
Darondo,
Banda Bassotti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
June of 44,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pagans,
Peter & Gordon,
Letta Mbulu,
Surgeon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Blues Magoos,
Laurel Aitken,
The Misunderstood,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.