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 Bahamas and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 the Slits to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Susan Cadogan,
Camberwell Now,
Bad Manners,
Pantytec,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
MDC,
Mandrill,
Sexual Harrassment,
Darondo,
Nas,
The Saints,
The Leaves,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Arab on Radar,
Accadde A,
Groovy Waters,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobby Sherman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gong,
The Divine Comedy,
E-Dancer,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Dave Clark Five,
Angry Samoans,
Niagra,
Pere Ubu,
Reagan Youth,
The Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
Visage,
Monks,
The Remains,
John Lydon,
Rekid,
Neil Young,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Stiv Bators,
Mad Mike,
Danielle Patucci,
The Neon Judgement,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Martian,
Organ,
Skaos,
Gichy Dan,
Siglo XX,
Kenny Larkin,
Chrome,
Bootsy Collins,
Qualms,
Pantaleimon,
The Cramps,
Monolake,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Modern Lovers,
ABC,
Shuggie Otis,
Public Enemy,
The Move,
Terry Callier,
Pussy Galore,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.