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 Mongolia and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare 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 Guru Guru to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All It's A Beautiful Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lalo Schifrin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Crime,
Quando Quango,
Y Pants,
Jawbox,
Jeff Mills,
Tears for Fears,
The Fire Engines,
Reuben Wilson,
New Order,
The Sisters of Mercy,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sun Ra,
Susan Cadogan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Graham Central Station,
T. Rex,
The Last Poets,
Letta Mbulu,
Wire,
Sixth Finger,
Eden Ahbez,
Terry Callier,
Anthony Braxton,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Birthday Party,
Simply Red,
The Five Americans,
the Slits,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rakim,
The Saints,
Slave,
Man Parrish,
Excepter,
Black Pus,
The Monochrome Set,
The Red Krayola,
Young Marble Giants,
X-102,
Schoolly D,
Porter Ricks,
The Moody Blues,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tommy Roe,
Erasure,
Metal Thangz,
Monks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eli Mardock,
Stiv Bators,
The Zeros,
Animal Collective,
The Black Dice,
Pylon,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.