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 Poland and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Accra.
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 linndrum 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lindisfarne,
Sight & Sound,
Andrew Hill,
Tubeway Army,
Newcleus,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Masters at Work,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
The Doobie Brothers,
Susan Cadogan,
James White and The Blacks,
Chrome,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Drive Like Jehu,
Banda Bassotti,
Icehouse,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Infiniti,
Hot Snakes,
10cc,
The Last Poets,
The Misunderstood,
Sex Pistols,
Lightning Bolt,
Donny Hathaway,
Rotary Connection,
Sun Ra,
Motorama,
Procol Harum,
Maurizio,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ornette Coleman,
Barry Ungar,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gichy Dan,
Danielle Patucci,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bush Tetras,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Todd Rundgren,
Kevin Saunderson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Searchers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The New Christs,
Lyres,
The Sisters of Mercy,
David McCallum,
Public Enemy,
The American Breed,
Piero Umiliani,
Wings,
Yusef Lateef,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.