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 Macedonia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Little Man to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faraquet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Barracudas,
Smog,
Lyres,
Radio Birdman,
Johnny Osbourne,
Amon Düül,
Throbbing Gristle,
Scan 7,
Sonic Youth,
Organ,
Albert Ayler,
Qualms,
Drexciya,
The Leaves,
Monolake,
Jacob Miller,
MC5,
Skaos,
Infiniti,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio,
Camouflage,
Eurythmics,
Carl Craig,
Bang On A Can,
The Gladiators,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Techniques,
This Heat,
JFA,
Q and Not U,
Lee Hazlewood,
Joe Finger,
Pantaleimon,
The Durutti Column,
Fat Boys,
John Foxx,
Marine Girls,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Divine Comedy,
Erasure,
Section 25,
Charles Mingus,
Alice Coltrane,
T. Rex,
F. McDonald,
Chris & Cosey,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rakim,
Icehouse,
Sonny Sharrock,
Neu!,
The Beau Brummels,
The Blues Magoos,
Sight & Sound,
The Fuzztones,
Subhumans,
The Dirtbombs,
Mary Jane Girls,
Fad Gadget,
Robert Hood,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.