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 Tajikistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet 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 Mandrill to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Bronski Beat. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Albert Ayler,
Yazoo,
Lalann,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fear,
Mandrill,
Pantytec,
Magma,
Stetsasonic,
Derrick Morgan,
Soul II Soul,
Black Pus,
Althea and Donna,
Ultra Naté,
Anthony Braxton,
Johnny Clarke,
Panda Bear,
Funky Four + One,
Laurel Aitken,
World's Most,
Deakin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Marine Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Harmonia,
The Remains,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
Lou Reed,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Five Americans,
ABBA,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ultimate Spinach,
In Retrospect,
ABC,
Motorama,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joey Negro,
Chris & Cosey,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alton Ellis,
Nirvana,
Big Daddy Kane,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobby Sherman,
Severed Heads,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Clear Light,
The Human League,
A Certain Ratio,
Ice-T,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kaleidoscope,
Jacob Miller,
Brothers Johnson,
Bauhaus,
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.