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 Comoros and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lindisfarne to the techno 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All The Real Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Crispian St. Peters,
MC5,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pylon,
Harry Pussy,
Crash Course in Science,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deepchord,
Janne Schatter,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Reagan Youth,
Anakelly,
Andrew Hill,
The Durutti Column,
Altered Images,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Quadrant,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marmalade,
The Mummies,
Duran Duran,
The Gun Club,
Steve Hackett,
Dave Gahan,
The United States of America,
Ohio Players,
Althea and Donna,
Brand Nubian,
Aural Exciters,
Dead Boys,
Minor Threat,
Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
The Residents,
Blancmange,
Siglo XX,
Roxette,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Gladiators,
Fear,
Organ,
Isaac Hayes,
Kaleidoscope,
Freddie Wadling,
Livin' Joy,
Malaria!,
Amon Düül II,
La Düsseldorf,
Vainqueur,
The Fuzztones,
The Slackers,
Radiohead,
Mad Mike,
Liliput,
Ultimate Spinach,
Brothers Johnson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
New Age Steppers,
The Black Dice,
Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound, Maleditus Sound.
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.