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 Micronesia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 spring reverb 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 Unrelated Segments to the crunk 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 Chocolate Watch Band. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Can,
Nico,
Tim Buckley,
Donny Hathaway,
Porter Ricks,
Slave,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Litter,
Adolescents,
Josef K,
Carl Craig,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Barracudas,
Franke,
Deepchord,
Pole,
The Velvet Underground,
Howard Jones,
Soft Machine,
A Certain Ratio,
Idris Muhammad,
La Düsseldorf,
Minor Threat,
Arab on Radar,
Simply Red,
Ultra Naté,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Aloha Tigers,
Smog,
Skarface,
Ralphi Rosario,
Chrome,
Sugar Minott,
World's Most,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Slackers,
Bobby Womack,
Michelle Simonal,
JFA,
Terry Callier,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fortunes,
Parry Music,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Divine Comedy,
Warsaw,
T.S.O.L.,
Aswad,
Wasted Youth,
Interpol,
Desert Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
The Electric Prunes,
Technova,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.