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 Mali and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Icehouse to the rap 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 Joe Finger. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
The Electric Prunes,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
8 Eyed Spy,
Outsiders,
Sarah Menescal,
Lebanon Hanover,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Minnie Riperton,
DJ Sneak,
Jawbox,
The Trojans,
Roy Ayers,
Electric Prunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Royal Trux,
Q65,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Cowsills,
Joyce Sims,
Franke,
Mo-Dettes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Faraquet,
Eve St. Jones,
Model 500,
Chrome,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Scion,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ohio Players,
Ultravox,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Moebius,
New Order,
X-101,
Bill Near,
Minor Threat,
Public Enemy,
The Seeds,
Goldenarms,
Schoolly D,
Iggy Pop,
Television,
Ornette Coleman,
Bluetip,
Lou Christie,
Sandy B,
Wire,
Lalo Schifrin,
Banda Bassotti,
Supertramp,
Scott Walker,
Juan Atkins,
Hardrive,
Malaria!,
Surgeon,
Rites of Spring,
Section 25,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.