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 Samoa and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Durutti Column to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Five Americans,
X-101,
Pere Ubu,
Kurtis Blow,
the Soft Cell,
Fear,
Monks,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grauzone,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Excepter,
Hardrive,
The New Christs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lalann,
Yusef Lateef,
The Mojo Men,
The Saints,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lower 48,
Junior Murvin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blake Baxter,
Nik Kershaw,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barbara Tucker,
Motorama,
Procol Harum,
Kool Moe Dee,
X-102,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bizarre Inc.,
Josef K,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Babytalk,
Agent Orange,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
T. Rex,
Nirvana,
Delon & Dalcan,
U.S. Maple,
Subhumans,
The Zeros,
Eurythmics,
Danielle Patucci,
Shoche,
Can,
Joe Smooth,
Robert Wyatt,
Stockholm Monsters,
Patti Smith,
China Crisis,
The Wake,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultra Naté,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.