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-Bissau and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Lebanon Hanover to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rhythim Is Rhythim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
Sun City Girls,
Connie Case,
The Knickerbockers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Coltrane,
The Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
Don Cherry,
Crooked Eye,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kas Product,
Harmonia,
Talk Talk,
Albert Ayler,
Vladislav Delay,
Gastr Del Sol,
X-Ray Spex,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scratch Acid,
Monolake,
Juan Atkins,
Sixth Finger,
Pharoah Sanders,
Silicon Teens,
The Slits,
The Real Kids,
Junior Murvin,
U.S. Maple,
Sällskapet,
Jeff Mills,
The Blackbyrds,
Rapeman,
MC5,
Dark Day,
Yusef Lateef,
X-101,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Leonard Cohen,
The Fugs,
Bob Dylan,
Kevin Saunderson,
MDC,
Los Fastidios,
Von Mondo,
Traffic Nightmare,
Livin' Joy,
Peter and Kerry,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dave Gahan,
Tom Boy,
James White and The Blacks,
Gang Gang Dance,
Andrew Hill,
Dual Sessions,
Sexual Harrassment,
Average White Band,
Aural Exciters,
Susan Cadogan,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.