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 Fiji and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Monks to the grime 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Toni Rubio,
The Busters,
The Slits,
Nik Kershaw,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Judy Mowatt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Vladislav Delay,
The Trojans,
Symarip,
Country Teasers,
Bob Dylan,
Hot Snakes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bluetip,
Kurtis Blow,
Whodini,
Jeru the Damaja,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Eve St. Jones,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Raincoats,
The Durutti Column,
Rites of Spring,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Velvet Underground,
Henry Cow,
Boz Scaggs,
Technova,
Black Pus,
The Real Kids,
Black Moon,
Khruangbin,
John Lydon,
David Axelrod,
Pussy Galore,
CMW,
Lower 48,
Anthony Braxton,
The Knickerbockers,
Tim Buckley,
Rufus Thomas,
Reagan Youth,
Visage,
Matthew Bourne,
Barclay James Harvest,
Bobby Byrd,
Fela Kuti,
The Last Poets,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Max Romeo,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
Pantaleimon,
New York Dolls,
Cybotron,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.