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 Maldives and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 oboe 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 The Names to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Wolf Eyes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mo-Dettes,
The Martian,
Erasure,
Moss Icon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Smoke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Michelle Simonal,
Procol Harum,
Al Stewart,
June of 44,
D'Angelo,
The Leaves,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
T.S.O.L.,
K-Klass,
Main Source,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Trojans,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Parry Music,
Matthew Halsall,
Tears for Fears,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sällskapet,
Eric Dolphy,
The Zeros,
Kaleidoscope,
8 Eyed Spy,
Infiniti,
Susan Cadogan,
Smog,
Moby Grape,
Lower 48,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
10cc,
Excepter,
Iggy Pop,
The Blackbyrds,
Kurtis Blow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
New Age Steppers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Letta Mbulu,
Simply Red,
Drexciya,
Dawn Penn,
Crooked Eye,
Isaac Hayes,
The American Breed,
Ice-T,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Warsaw,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Slits,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.