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 Fiji and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 guitar 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 ABC to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Niagra. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav 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?
The American Breed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
World's Most,
ABBA,
Lalann,
cv313,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Coltrane,
Urselle,
Scion,
The Blackbyrds,
Marvin Gaye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Flipper,
The Skatalites,
Intrusion,
Johnny Clarke,
The Beau Brummels,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Deepchord,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Archie Shepp,
the Slits,
Lindisfarne,
MC5,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Yellowson,
Rites of Spring,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Slackers,
Radio Birdman,
Pere Ubu,
Public Enemy,
Sight & Sound,
Dead Boys,
David McCallum,
John Foxx,
X-Ray Spex,
Gong,
The Fortunes,
Rakim,
Colin Newman,
Judy Mowatt,
Nirvana,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Yaz,
Danielle Patucci,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
China Crisis,
Television Personalities,
U.S. Maple,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
Barry Ungar,
Marcia Griffiths,
Aural Exciters,
New Order,
The Mojo Men,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.