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 Sudan and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick Morgan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Con Funk Shun,
The Buckinghams,
Johnny Osbourne,
Ronnie Foster,
Sparks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
Deepchord,
Scientists,
Scott Walker,
Talk Talk,
The Black Dice,
Kerri Chandler,
Cal Tjader,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
Derrick Morgan,
The Golliwogs,
Brothers Johnson,
The Moody Blues,
Soul Sonic Force,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Young Marble Giants,
Buzzcocks,
H. Thieme,
Terry Callier,
Cecil Taylor,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Josef K,
The Victims,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Blake Baxter,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bush Tetras,
Grey Daturas,
Absolute Body Control,
Rufus Thomas,
Joe Finger,
Public Enemy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Maleditus Sound,
Los Fastidios,
The Electric Prunes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Cowsills,
Anthony Braxton,
Symarip,
Alison Limerick,
Darondo,
The Tremeloes,
Intrusion,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Walker Brothers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.