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 Burkina and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Lebanon Hanover to the jazz 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All the Bar-Kays tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
June of 44,
Iggy Pop,
Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harry Pussy,
Cheater Slicks,
Surgeon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Rites of Spring,
Fluxion,
Ultra Naté,
Half Japanese,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sonics,
John Foxx,
Kas Product,
Tom Boy,
Eric Dolphy,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gong,
The Divine Comedy,
Brick,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Flag,
The Monks,
Maleditus Sound,
X-102,
The Misunderstood,
The Fire Engines,
Swans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
New Order,
Rufus Thomas,
Basic Channel,
Circle Jerks,
Black Moon,
A Certain Ratio,
Minutemen,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Matthew Halsall,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Model 500,
Brothers Johnson,
CMW,
Jacob Miller,
Oneida,
Nas,
The Monochrome Set,
Boz Scaggs,
Ronnie Foster,
Blancmange,
Dave Gahan,
Ornette Coleman,
Vainqueur,
Henry Cow,
Pierre Henry,
This Heat,
Eve St. Jones,
Byron Stingily,
the Normal,
Fat Boys,
Massinfluence,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre, Harpers Bizarre.
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.