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 Bahrain and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Tubeway Army to the grime 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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Lalo Schifrin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Pierre Henry,
Nation of Ulysses,
Magazine,
Surgeon,
Cameo,
The Misunderstood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Metal Thangz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ossler,
Max Romeo,
The Monks,
Fat Boys,
Urselle,
K-Klass,
Radiopuhelimet,
Arab on Radar,
Severed Heads,
Make Up,
Kas Product,
Jandek,
Cecil Taylor,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Red Krayola,
Heaven 17,
Public Image Ltd.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Zeros,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Almond,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Standells,
Aswad,
Sarah Menescal,
Saccharine Trust,
Ken Boothe,
the Soft Cell,
DJ Style,
Mars,
The J.B.'s,
The Slackers,
Sixth Finger,
Pagans,
Harry Pussy,
CMW,
Bill Wells,
Shuggie Otis,
Lightning Bolt,
The Trojans,
Joensuu 1685,
Soft Machine,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Newcleus,
Gang Green,
Sister Nancy,
Marine Girls,
FM Einheit,
Letta Mbulu,
Godley & Creme,
Lou Christie,
Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division, Joy Division.
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.