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 Bahrain and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lungfish to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Iggy Pop,
Robert Görl,
Clear Light,
Skaos,
Arcadia,
Simply Red,
Liliput,
Donald Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Urselle,
Schoolly D,
Bad Manners,
The Offenders,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Crime,
the Bar-Kays,
The Busters,
Cecil Taylor,
Main Source,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Franke,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Alarm Clocks,
A Certain Ratio,
Cal Tjader,
The Vogues,
Flipper,
Black Pus,
Crooked Eye,
LL Cool J,
The Buckinghams,
Kas Product,
In Retrospect,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Litter,
The Index,
Ken Boothe,
The Leaves,
OOIOO,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bill Near,
Absolute Body Control,
Yellowson,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Womack,
Man Eating Sloth,
T. Rex,
Easy Going,
The Golliwogs,
Aural Exciters,
One Last Wish,
Section 25,
CMW,
Jeff Lynne,
The Kinks,
The Martian,
Intrusion,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.