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 Kazakhstan 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Ultravox to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 This Heat. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column 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?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Neil Young,
Eddi Front,
The Victims,
Marine Girls,
Patti Smith,
New York Dolls,
Althea and Donna,
Bob Dylan,
Marshall Jefferson,
Albert Ayler,
Ituana,
Marc Almond,
Lalo Schifrin,
Duran Duran,
T. Rex,
X-102,
Reuben Wilson,
Gang of Four,
ABBA,
Sandy B,
Howard Jones,
Ludus,
The Cosmic Jokers,
These Immortal Souls,
Oblivians,
Intrusion,
Q and Not U,
The Star Department,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nick Fraelich,
Danielle Patucci,
Lebanon Hanover,
Steve Hackett,
Letta Mbulu,
Tears for Fears,
Pussy Galore,
John Coltrane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Angels of Light,
Isaac Hayes,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gun Club,
Skriet,
Flash Fearless,
Trumans Water,
The American Breed,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eric Dolphy,
Niagra,
Grey Daturas,
H. Thieme,
Excepter,
Todd Rundgren,
John Holt,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Negative Approach,
This Heat,
The Pretty Things,
Crooked Eye,
Warsaw,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.