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 Seychelles and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 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 The Grass Roots to the rap 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 The Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Pere Ubu,
Scion,
Lou Reed,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rekid,
Piero Umiliani,
FM Einheit,
Toni Rubio,
Matthew Halsall,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Y Pants,
The Toasters,
the Association,
Idris Muhammad,
Alton Ellis,
The Knickerbockers,
X-101,
Masters at Work,
Magazine,
48th St. Collective,
Average White Band,
Cameo,
Newcleus,
The Blues Magoos,
Ornette Coleman,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Last Poets,
The Zeros,
DJ Sneak,
Thompson Twins,
Lalann,
Todd Terry,
Ronnie Foster,
The J.B.'s,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Hot Snakes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roger Hodgson,
Alice Coltrane,
Outsiders,
Deepchord,
Subhumans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
Mad Mike,
The Count Five,
Chris & Cosey,
James White and The Blacks,
These Immortal Souls,
Freddie Wadling,
Iggy Pop,
Sällskapet,
Bauhaus,
Silicon Teens,
Andrew Hill,
Tomorrow,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Soft Cell,
Crispy Ambulance,
Kas Product,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.