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 Iran and from Bremen.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sex Pistols to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Flamin' Groovies,
Surgeon,
Lou Christie,
OOIOO,
Khruangbin,
Pantaleimon,
Country Teasers,
The Seeds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harmonia,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Aaron Thompson,
The Cramps,
The Monks,
The Blues Magoos,
Yellowson,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Andrew Hill,
Von Mondo,
A Certain Ratio,
Hot Snakes,
Nirvana,
Ronnie Foster,
Sex Pistols,
Animal Collective,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Names,
Pylon,
Nik Kershaw,
Pierre Henry,
Ken Boothe,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Theoretical Girls,
Eve St. Jones,
John Foxx,
Hardrive,
John Coltrane,
In Retrospect,
Royal Trux,
Newcleus,
Brass Construction,
Dennis Brown,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nas,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Trojans,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeff Mills,
Howard Jones,
Visage,
Bang On A Can,
The Human League,
Brand Nubian,
Q65,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Eli Mardock,
Connie Case,
Lightning Bolt,
Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood, Lee Hazlewood.
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.