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 Suriname and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin 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 spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Ken Boothe,
The Flesh Eaters,
Suicide,
Max Romeo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris & Cosey,
The Residents,
Khruangbin,
X-101,
Junior Murvin,
Jawbox,
Bill Wells,
Rufus Thomas,
The Beau Brummels,
Anthony Braxton,
Television Personalities,
Donny Hathaway,
The Pretty Things,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pylon,
Fatback Band,
Infiniti,
Patti Smith,
The Trojans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Albert Ayler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Names,
The Moleskins,
The Blues Magoos,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Franke,
John Cale,
Ronnie Foster,
The Birthday Party,
Siglo XX,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lucky Dragons,
Yellowson,
The Selecter,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Womack,
Juan Atkins,
Nas,
Supertramp,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alphaville,
Peter and Kerry,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Fania All-Stars,
Todd Terry,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Newcleus,
The Velvet Underground,
Main Source,
Saccharine Trust,
Black Moon,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.