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 South Africa and from Toronto.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Jakarta.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the punk 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a London Community Gospel Choir record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Quando Quango,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lou Reed,
Massinfluence,
Q and Not U,
Rotary Connection,
Black Sheep,
Sixth Finger,
Circle Jerks,
Icehouse,
Silicon Teens,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pylon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Organ,
The Star Department,
Byron Stingily,
Glenn Branca,
Kayak,
Mantronix,
Royal Trux,
Bronski Beat,
The Motions,
A Certain Ratio,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lungfish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Nils Olav,
Depeche Mode,
Urselle,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grey Daturas,
Donny Hathaway,
Sonic Youth,
Nas,
Hashim,
Boredoms,
Simply Red,
Grandmaster Flash,
Theoretical Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Newcleus,
Index,
Deadbeat,
Ornette Coleman,
Goldenarms,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sun City Girls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Magazine,
The Music Machine,
Matthew Bourne,
Thompson Twins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Frankie Knuckles,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Gladiators,
Ice-T,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.