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 Marshall Islands and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dave Gahan to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Niagra,
Amazonics,
Ice-T,
DJ Sneak,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aloha Tigers,
Public Enemy,
Interpol,
The Real Kids,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Deakin,
The Mummies,
Kenny Larkin,
Rapeman,
Rakim,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pylon,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
Maleditus Sound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Icehouse,
the Normal,
Pharoah Sanders,
Marvin Gaye,
Matthew Bourne,
Pierre Henry,
The Walker Brothers,
Jeff Mills,
Heaven 17,
Loose Ends,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Whodini,
The Fortunes,
The Beau Brummels,
Half Japanese,
Gichy Dan,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joyce Sims,
Gabor Szabo,
DJ Style,
Aaron Thompson,
Nas,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
Fela Kuti,
Ituana,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Görl,
Prince Buster,
Duran Duran,
Rotary Connection,
Infiniti,
Organ,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Minny Pops,
The Happenings,
Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey, Bobbi Humphrey.
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.