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 Sierra Leone and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 sitar 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 Gang Gang Dance to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Theoretical Girls,
10cc,
Funky Four + One,
Clear Light,
Deakin,
Chris & Cosey,
Quantec,
Eddi Front,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tears for Fears,
Public Enemy,
the Bar-Kays,
Vainqueur,
Moss Icon,
Sight & Sound,
Kurtis Blow,
Josef K,
Henry Cow,
The Dirtbombs,
The Toasters,
Bronski Beat,
Pussy Galore,
The Moleskins,
The Gladiators,
Ronnie Foster,
Reagan Youth,
Todd Terry,
The Saints,
John Coltrane,
Camberwell Now,
Gong,
Porter Ricks,
Boz Scaggs,
Fat Boys,
Quando Quango,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joyce Sims,
Alphaville,
Prince Buster,
Althea and Donna,
Shoche,
Janne Schatter,
Tomorrow,
Rites of Spring,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Spoonie Gee,
Lakeside,
Gang Green,
Thee Headcoats,
Mr. Review,
The Trojans,
Alison Limerick,
The Moody Blues,
Monolake,
Ossler,
Faraquet,
The Happenings,
The Fugs,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Selecter,
Gang of Four,
Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear, Panda Bear.
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.