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 Russia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Joensuu 1685,
Scan 7,
Carl Craig,
Dave Gahan,
Bang On A Can,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
Thompson Twins,
The Grass Roots,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Sound Behaviour,
The Fortunes,
Pantytec,
Soulsonic Force,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lindisfarne,
Angry Samoans,
Derrick May,
Nik Kershaw,
Audionom,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ice-T,
Sister Nancy,
Sex Pistols,
Anakelly,
The Names,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Malaria!,
Swell Maps,
Andrew Hill,
T. Rex,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Letta Mbulu,
The Evens,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Germs,
Erasure,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Althea and Donna,
The Mojo Men,
Lou Christie,
Subhumans,
Skaos,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deepchord,
Tres Demented,
Oblivians,
The Fugs,
JFA,
These Immortal Souls,
Girls At Our Best!,
One Last Wish,
Outsiders,
Grey Daturas,
The Barracudas,
Dorothy Ashby,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.