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 Swaziland and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar 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 The Black Dice 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
The Move,
Rekid,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Neil Young,
Sixth Finger,
Bauhaus,
Johnny Osbourne,
James White and The Blacks,
Slick Rick,
Scan 7,
Wally Richardson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Matthew Bourne,
The Birthday Party,
The Tremeloes,
Mo-Dettes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jandek,
Minor Threat,
Pantytec,
The Trojans,
Sällskapet,
Fela Kuti,
the Association,
48th St. Collective,
Electric Prunes,
Excepter,
LL Cool J,
Bill Wells,
Dave Gahan,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mantronix,
Peter and Kerry,
Adolescents,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pere Ubu,
Deadbeat,
Circle Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Echospace,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Sonics,
Oneida,
The Index,
Vladislav Delay,
Anakelly,
The Blues Magoos,
The Music Machine,
Popol Vuh,
The Angels of Light,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dead Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
Warsaw,
Gichy Dan,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Liliput,
Rakim,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.