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 Solomon Islands and from Lille.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Nils Olav to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Peanut Butter Conspiracy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erykah Badu,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fortunes,
The Stooges,
Half Japanese,
Symarip,
Simply Red,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultravox,
Funkadelic,
Mars,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Knickerbockers,
Amazonics,
Ronnie Foster,
Isaac Hayes,
Tomorrow,
Pussy Galore,
One Last Wish,
MC5,
X-102,
The Names,
Electric Prunes,
Spandau Ballet,
Unrelated Segments,
Godley & Creme,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kayak,
Model 500,
Buzzcocks,
Amon Düül II,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Leonard Cohen,
Gabor Szabo,
Ituana,
The Evens,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Donald Byrd,
The Fugs,
The Pop Group,
U.S. Maple,
T. Rex,
The Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Magazine,
Roxy Music,
The Standells,
Connie Case,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun City Girls,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gong,
the Germs,
Silicon Teens,
Porter Ricks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monks,
John Lydon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.