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 Guatemala and from Paris.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South 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 Todd Terry to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Bronski Beat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thee Headcoats record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Soft Cell,
Idris Muhammad,
The Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lower 48,
Quando Quango,
Harry Pussy,
Faust,
Kaleidoscope,
Malaria!,
Lalann,
Tres Demented,
Black Flag,
Outsiders,
Tom Boy,
Model 500,
Mad Mike,
Gil Scott Heron,
Todd Terry,
U.S. Maple,
Janne Schatter,
The Fire Engines,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
June Days,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Main Source,
Rapeman,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mo-Dettes,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crooked Eye,
Panda Bear,
Brick,
Public Enemy,
Yaz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Heaven 17,
The Zeros,
The Gun Club,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Cameo,
Banda Bassotti,
Pantaleimon,
Stiv Bators,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Dark Day,
Ultra Naté,
Aural Exciters,
Crime,
Khruangbin,
The Smoke,
Kerrie Biddell,
Monolake,
Eric Dolphy,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.