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 Singapore and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Toronto and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Connie Case 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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
The Human League,
The Flesh Eaters,
Electric Prunes,
Moebius,
Popol Vuh,
The Fire Engines,
Interpol,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
Todd Rundgren,
the Soft Cell,
Cameo,
Tomorrow,
Nico,
The Toasters,
Joy Division,
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
Metal Thangz,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Inner City,
X-Ray Spex,
Curtis Mayfield,
Deepchord,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roger Hodgson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Unrelated Segments,
Mr. Review,
Prince Buster,
Minutemen,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Five Americans,
Camouflage,
Man Eating Sloth,
Aaron Thompson,
Sonic Youth,
These Immortal Souls,
John Foxx,
Alison Limerick,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Sherman,
Lou Christie,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sun City Girls,
The Remains,
The Slits,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Glambeats Corp.,
Siglo XX,
Amon Düül,
Can,
Alton Ellis,
Q and Not U,
Joensuu 1685,
Faust,
Agitation Free,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pagans,
Ossler,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.