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 Saudi Arabia and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Radio Birdman to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Durutti Column,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
John Coltrane,
Flamin' Groovies,
F. McDonald,
Clear Light,
The Monochrome Set,
Nik Kershaw,
Scrapy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Metal Thangz,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Qualms,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fire Engines,
Cheater Slicks,
E-Dancer,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Suburban Knight,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Bowie,
Ten City,
Faust,
Ice-T,
Dark Day,
Bauhaus,
Hashim,
Fela Kuti,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Adolescents,
Fort Wilson Riot,
T.S.O.L.,
Q and Not U,
The Offenders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
DNA,
Joy Division,
Los Fastidios,
Minnie Riperton,
Chris Corsano,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Franke,
David Axelrod,
Pere Ubu,
The Cowsills,
Das Ding,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Maleditus Sound,
Dorothy Ashby,
New York Dolls,
Cybotron,
Parry Music,
Vladislav Delay,
Gil Scott Heron,
Henry Cow,
Urselle,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.