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 Netherlands and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sister Nancy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
Easy Going,
Freddie Wadling,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Crooked Eye,
Soul Sonic Force,
Surgeon,
Eve St. Jones,
Alison Limerick,
Nick Fraelich,
Yaz,
Eurythmics,
The Dead C,
Brothers Johnson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Intrusion,
Adolescents,
Bizarre Inc.,
Vladislav Delay,
Marcia Griffiths,
Los Fastidios,
Barrington Levy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fatback Band,
Amazonics,
Second Layer,
8 Eyed Spy,
One Last Wish,
Man Parrish,
the Normal,
Ronan,
Black Moon,
Altered Images,
New Order,
China Crisis,
Country Teasers,
The Offenders,
Young Marble Giants,
Mars,
Carl Craig,
Aswad,
Soft Machine,
The Smoke,
The Names,
Infiniti,
Hasil Adkins,
Yusef Lateef,
The Divine Comedy,
The New Christs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Symarip,
Stereo Dub,
The Pretty Things,
Lower 48,
B.T. Express,
Monks,
Wasted Youth,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Angels of Light,
Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton, Anthony Braxton.
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.