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 Burkina and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron 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 Barbara Tucker to the electroclash 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
B.T. Express,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gang Green,
Wire,
UT,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Metal Thangz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Slave,
Yazoo,
Prince Buster,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Terry Callier,
Duran Duran,
Intrusion,
Angry Samoans,
Gang of Four,
The Birthday Party,
K-Klass,
Erykah Badu,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lyres,
Television Personalities,
Lou Christie,
The Monks,
Harry Pussy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Max Romeo,
Eli Mardock,
the Germs,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Banda Bassotti,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Khruangbin,
The Stooges,
Josef K,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
Janne Schatter,
Aaron Thompson,
Hoover,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Toasters,
Outsiders,
L. Decosne,
Mark Hollis,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Royal Trux,
Swans,
Ultra Naté,
T.S.O.L.,
Marvin Gaye,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.