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 Gabon and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Litter to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Wally Richardson,
The Gladiators,
Sex Pistols,
The Vogues,
Circle Jerks,
Ornette Coleman,
Cameo,
Sugar Minott,
Ohio Players,
T.S.O.L.,
David McCallum,
Danielle Patucci,
Suburban Knight,
The Dead C,
Lalann,
Visage,
Urselle,
Andrew Hill,
Skarface,
The Cramps,
Sound Behaviour,
F. McDonald,
Nik Kershaw,
The Real Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
EPMD,
Kas Product,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Organ,
The Tremeloes,
The Star Department,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jacob Miller,
Roxette,
Rites of Spring,
David Bowie,
Reagan Youth,
OOIOO,
Japan,
Whodini,
Au Pairs,
The New Christs,
Blossom Toes,
Rod Modell,
Joy Division,
Howard Jones,
AZ,
Black Bananas,
Gabor Szabo,
Bootsy Collins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Babytalk,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
FM Einheit,
Swans,
Archie Shepp,
Quando Quango,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lungfish,
Stiv Bators,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.