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 Namibia and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 sitar 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 Peter & Gordon to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Selecter,
Ronan,
Minny Pops,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Arcadia,
Aswad,
Deepchord,
Flamin' Groovies,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Moleskins,
Prince Buster,
The Saints,
Buzzcocks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Intrusion,
Dark Day,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eurythmics,
John Holt,
Carl Craig,
Jacques Brel,
Los Fastidios,
Porter Ricks,
PIL,
The Blues Magoos,
Fugazi,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wire,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
Don Cherry,
The Black Dice,
Theoretical Girls,
These Immortal Souls,
The Wake,
Thompson Twins,
Popol Vuh,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ten City,
Chris & Cosey,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lucky Dragons,
Ornette Coleman,
Babytalk,
Pagans,
Pantytec,
CMW,
New York Dolls,
Agent Orange,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kerri Chandler,
the Soft Cell,
The Pretty Things,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skarface,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Silicon Teens,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.