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 Indonesia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dark Day to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Fugazi,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lee Hazlewood,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Jacques Brel,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tommy Roe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cure,
Bluetip,
The Invisible,
Gang Starr,
Bad Manners,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ultravox,
Soft Machine,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Theoretical Girls,
The Dead C,
Gil Scott Heron,
Heaven 17,
The Fugs,
Scott Walker,
Can,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Tremeloes,
Pantytec,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Henry Cow,
John Foxx,
Sarah Menescal,
Marmalade,
kango's stein massive,
The Walker Brothers,
Organ,
Negative Approach,
Bill Wells,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cecil Taylor,
The Pretty Things,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
ABBA,
Andrew Hill,
Mission of Burma,
James White and The Blacks,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bizarre Inc.,
Ronan,
Outsiders,
Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale, Lou Reed & John Cale.
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.