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 Palau and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alarm Clocks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skriet 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Organ,
Deadbeat,
Dorothy Ashby,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Quadrant,
Patti Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Black Moon,
Arthur Verocai,
Chrome,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kenny Larkin,
Wire,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Bill Near,
Japan,
Yaz,
Hoover,
Rosa Yemen,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Country Teasers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Scrapy,
Wasted Youth,
Dead Boys,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultra Naté,
Dual Sessions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Banda Bassotti,
Stiv Bators,
The Music Machine,
Tears for Fears,
H. Thieme,
Wings,
Franke,
Robert Wyatt,
Eddi Front,
the Bar-Kays,
Barrington Levy,
DJ Style,
Icehouse,
Agent Orange,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeff Lynne,
Matthew Halsall,
Crooked Eye,
The Seeds,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bronski Beat,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Angry Samoans,
Josef K,
Darondo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Circle Jerks,
The Tremeloes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry, Peter and Kerry.
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.