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 Jamaica and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Joy Division to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Simply Red. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bad Manners record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Arthur Verocai,
Fugazi,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scott Walker,
Scientists,
Tubeway Army,
Brothers Johnson,
The Angels of Light,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neu!,
KRS-One,
Amon Düül II,
Shuggie Otis,
Quadrant,
The Saints,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lalann,
Mars,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Pretty Things,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bootsy Collins,
Hoover,
Circle Jerks,
L. Decosne,
Erasure,
Dave Gahan,
Bush Tetras,
Warren Ellis,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bob Dylan,
Jeff Mills,
Depeche Mode,
The Velvet Underground,
Slave,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slackers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Wake,
Soft Cell,
Amon Düül,
Aaron Thompson,
Jeff Lynne,
Tomorrow,
the Swans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Juan Atkins,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Gories,
The Moleskins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
the Sonics,
X-Ray Spex,
Rotary Connection,
Dead Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Motions,
Zero Boys,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.