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 Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 arpeggiator 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the crunk 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gichy Dan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Curtis Mayfield,
Charles Mingus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Quadrant,
Gichy Dan,
Carl Craig,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Cale,
The Shadows of Knight,
Soulsonic Force,
Deepchord,
B.T. Express,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sandy B,
Shuggie Otis,
The Moleskins,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
Blancmange,
Index,
Oblivians,
The Kinks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sister Nancy,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Neon Judgement,
Audionom,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Icehouse,
Agitation Free,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Germs,
Scratch Acid,
MDC,
Mo-Dettes,
Visage,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Lydon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fatback Band,
Scientists,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mars,
Juan Atkins,
Wasted Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
New Order,
Outsiders,
The Modern Lovers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minnie Riperton,
Bauhaus,
Spandau Ballet,
Archie Shepp,
Skarface,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.