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 Pakistan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 marimba 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 Tropical Tobacco 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Dead Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Slits,
MDC,
The Fortunes,
Mandrill,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tubeway Army,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Dead Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Connie Case,
Derrick Morgan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Lou Christie,
Shuggie Otis,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Organ,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
Lucky Dragons,
Basic Channel,
Aloha Tigers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Dark Day,
Procol Harum,
KRS-One,
Hoover,
The Barracudas,
Marmalade,
Aswad,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pole,
Hashim,
Wasted Youth,
the Normal,
Anthony Braxton,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Blossom Toes,
Model 500,
Theoretical Girls,
John Holt,
Lower 48,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mr. Review,
Sound Behaviour,
Scion,
D'Angelo,
Masters at Work,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
In Retrospect,
H. Thieme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mummies,
Smog,
The Standells,
Oneida,
Japan,
Boredoms,
Swans,
Idris Muhammad,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.