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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Rakim to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
The Fugs,
Brand Nubian,
E-Dancer,
Sixth Finger,
New Age Steppers,
Cybotron,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Brick,
Ituana,
X-101,
Mark Hollis,
Glenn Branca,
Dawn Penn,
Sex Pistols,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Gladiators,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Wyatt,
The Kinks,
Sugar Minott,
Grauzone,
Magma,
Duran Duran,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Christie,
Charles Mingus,
Oneida,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Litter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Mr. Review,
Suicide,
Country Teasers,
The Dirtbombs,
DJ Sneak,
John Cale,
Minny Pops,
Pole,
Das Ding,
Davy DMX,
Cecil Taylor,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
Half Japanese,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cal Tjader,
The Names,
Faraquet,
Con Funk Shun,
FM Einheit,
Sister Nancy,
Joe Smooth,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ten City,
The Count Five,
Liliput,
Easy Going,
The Mojo Men,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.