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 Malaysia and from Manila.
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 Lyon and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Juan Atkins to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans 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?
Urselle,
Barclay James Harvest,
Yaz,
Hashim,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Maleditus Sound,
Desert Stars,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Seeds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantytec,
Skaos,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Swell Maps,
Ituana,
Hoover,
Saccharine Trust,
Mark Hollis,
Main Source,
Basic Channel,
John Lydon,
David Axelrod,
Babytalk,
Faust,
Sam Rivers,
Gang Green,
The Fugs,
The American Breed,
Qualms,
These Immortal Souls,
The Music Machine,
Grauzone,
Dennis Brown,
The Cramps,
Aloha Tigers,
Colin Newman,
Bronski Beat,
Kas Product,
Model 500,
Vainqueur,
Roxy Music,
Stetsasonic,
Toni Rubio,
The Saints,
Shuggie Otis,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cameo,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Monolake,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Loose Ends,
X-Ray Spex,
June of 44,
Lower 48,
The Dead C,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gang Starr,
The Fuzztones,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.