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 Congo and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ohio Players to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deakin,
Newcleus,
Jerry's Kids,
Suicide,
Tres Demented,
Yellowson,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quantec,
Electric Prunes,
Fluxion,
Sparks,
Los Fastidios,
Slick Rick,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonny Sharrock,
Theoretical Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tim Buckley,
The Walker Brothers,
Barrington Levy,
The Index,
Silicon Teens,
The Cowsills,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pet Shop Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Amazonics,
Sixth Finger,
Tomorrow,
The Gun Club,
Lightning Bolt,
the Slits,
Excepter,
Camouflage,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ludus,
David Bowie,
Thompson Twins,
Unrelated Segments,
The Blackbyrds,
Anakelly,
Bluetip,
Joensuu 1685,
Inner City,
Drexciya,
Alton Ellis,
The Residents,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Pop Group,
Tom Boy,
The Mummies,
Rosa Yemen,
Joyce Sims,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
Erasure,
The Fall,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
a-ha,
Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse, Icehouse.
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.