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 Nigeria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 linndrum 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Deakin,
The Real Kids,
Colin Newman,
Sonic Youth,
Sällskapet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
OOIOO,
The Fortunes,
Average White Band,
Eurythmics,
Grey Daturas,
Circle Jerks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Lydon,
The Evens,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boz Scaggs,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Angels of Light,
Cecil Taylor,
ABBA,
Inner City,
Big Daddy Kane,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Techniques,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
The Skatalites,
Pantaleimon,
Barry Ungar,
Ponytail,
Swell Maps,
The Zeros,
Wolf Eyes,
Ossler,
the Association,
the Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Saints,
EPMD,
Charles Mingus,
a-ha,
Mr. Review,
Boogie Down Productions,
Eddi Front,
Fat Boys,
Marc Almond,
Chris & Cosey,
Jacob Miller,
Public Image Ltd.,
Rufus Thomas,
Mark Hollis,
Thompson Twins,
The Tremeloes,
Leonard Cohen,
Idris Muhammad,
Jeff Mills,
Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding, Das Ding.
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.