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 Mauritania and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bobby Byrd to the electroclash 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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deakin,
Ossler,
The Dead C,
Fatback Band,
Section 25,
Amazonics,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
PIL,
The Star Department,
Visage,
Freddie Wadling,
The Misunderstood,
JFA,
Michelle Simonal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moebius,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Seeds,
Soft Cell,
Babytalk,
Skaos,
T. Rex,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Gun Club,
Sarah Menescal,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wings,
Dark Day,
Intrusion,
Cameo,
Liliput,
Al Stewart,
Sexual Harrassment,
Von Mondo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Camouflage,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott Heron,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Warsaw,
Bauhaus,
Sällskapet,
Stereo Dub,
Q and Not U,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Unwound,
Peter & Gordon,
Trumans Water,
Theoretical Girls,
Reuben Wilson,
The Standells,
Brass Construction,
Crispy Ambulance,
Model 500,
48th St. Collective,
Mr. Review,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jacques Brel,
Angry Samoans,
Flamin' Groovies,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.