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 St Lucia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 mellotron 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 Theoretical Girls to the crunk 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soul Sonic Force,
Deadbeat,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fall,
Icehouse,
Flipper,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wolf Eyes,
The Slackers,
Newcleus,
Aaron Thompson,
Aswad,
48th St. Collective,
Depeche Mode,
Bush Tetras,
The Raincoats,
Ultravox,
June Days,
Rapeman,
Procol Harum,
Con Funk Shun,
Gabor Szabo,
In Retrospect,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Audionom,
Smog,
Brass Construction,
Bobby Byrd,
Los Fastidios,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Second Layer,
Ohio Players,
Public Image Ltd.,
Funkadelic,
This Heat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Swans,
Masters at Work,
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
The Human League,
Hasil Adkins,
Dennis Brown,
Aural Exciters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Litter,
The Gladiators,
Simply Red,
T. Rex,
The Black Dice,
Lalann,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cowsills,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Osbourne,
Essential Logic,
Gregory Isaacs,
Man Parrish,
The Slits,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.