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 Turkey and from Tehran.
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 Paris and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lyres to the jazz 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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Visage,
Byron Stingily,
Moebius,
Charles Mingus,
Cymande,
Anthony Braxton,
the Association,
Soft Machine,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Angry Samoans,
Thompson Twins,
The Index,
Urselle,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ralphi Rosario,
Los Fastidios,
Pagans,
Japan,
Bronski Beat,
Public Image Ltd.,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Pus,
The Durutti Column,
Minny Pops,
June Days,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sex Pistols,
Simply Red,
Hot Snakes,
Steve Hackett,
David Bowie,
Derrick May,
Zapp,
Sonny Sharrock,
Archie Shepp,
The Skatalites,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fugazi,
Joy Division,
The Knickerbockers,
The Invisible,
The Shadows of Knight,
Main Source,
Roger Hodgson,
Bad Manners,
Whodini,
Rosa Yemen,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rapeman,
Gong,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Toasters,
Outsiders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Soft Cell,
Nirvana,
Echospace,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.