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 Costa Rica and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Neu! practice in a loft in Düsseldorf.
I was working on the snare 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 Cheater Slicks to the techno 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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
Procol Harum,
Niagra,
One Last Wish,
The Fire Engines,
The Modern Lovers,
Arthur Verocai,
Patti Smith,
Whodini,
Pierre Henry,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Wasted Youth,
Howard Jones,
Shoche,
Mantronix,
Al Stewart,
Peter and Kerry,
Crash Course in Science,
The Beau Brummels,
Unwound,
Skarface,
Yazoo,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gories,
Porter Ricks,
Section 25,
Warren Ellis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
CMW,
Japan,
Susan Cadogan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lightning Bolt,
Marine Girls,
Peter & Gordon,
Toni Rubio,
Cameo,
Pussy Galore,
Scott Walker,
Sugar Minott,
The Trojans,
Hot Snakes,
Althea and Donna,
The Red Krayola,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wire,
Steve Hackett,
Amazonics,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Cale,
The Grass Roots,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Neon Judgement,
Gang Green,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Jawbox,
B.T. Express,
Severed Heads,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.