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 Gambia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eyeless In Gaza to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
The Gladiators,
Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lightning Bolt,
The Monks,
Jeff Mills,
Funky Four + One,
Stetsasonic,
Henry Cow,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fela Kuti,
Kool Moe Dee,
Section 25,
Slave,
Sparks,
Hasil Adkins,
New York Dolls,
Erykah Badu,
The Associates,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Motorama,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Supertramp,
Hot Snakes,
The Doors,
Eric Copeland,
Nico,
June of 44,
Bang On A Can,
One Last Wish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Accadde A,
David Bowie,
Eurythmics,
Howard Jones,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amazonics,
Smog,
Black Sheep,
Donald Byrd,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tim Buckley,
Wolf Eyes,
Bill Wells,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
Eyeless In Gaza,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Black Pus,
Sun City Girls,
The Victims,
The Five Americans,
Thee Headcoats,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Wake,
The Angels of Light,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.