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 Croatia and from Lagos.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 Gang Gang Dance to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Los Fastidios,
Youth Brigade,
Nirvana,
Howard Jones,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bootsy Collins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Green,
KRS-One,
the Bar-Kays,
Babytalk,
The Count Five,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Man Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Theoretical Girls,
Kerri Chandler,
The Blues Magoos,
Saccharine Trust,
Kenny Larkin,
Jawbox,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
CMW,
Eric Dolphy,
AZ,
Duran Duran,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gichy Dan,
Wings,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Hill,
In Retrospect,
8 Eyed Spy,
Whodini,
Crooked Eye,
Vladislav Delay,
Thee Headcoats,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hashim,
The Red Krayola,
Maleditus Sound,
Kurtis Blow,
New York Dolls,
Organ,
Underground Resistance,
Neil Young,
John Lydon,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
The Searchers,
Dave Gahan,
The Knickerbockers,
Metal Thangz,
Bill Near,
Lindisfarne,
Pylon,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Slits,
Franke,
Bizarre Inc.,
Don Cherry,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux.
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.