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 Cameroon and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronan 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
The Red Krayola,
Basic Channel,
Lindisfarne,
Eddi Front,
New York Dolls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Raincoats,
Kas Product,
Magazine,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Juan Atkins,
Interpol,
Matthew Halsall,
Wasted Youth,
The Fire Engines,
Tres Demented,
Moby Grape,
Cybotron,
Neu!,
Mr. Review,
FM Einheit,
Brand Nubian,
Circle Jerks,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Sight & Sound,
Altered Images,
A Certain Ratio,
E-Dancer,
X-101,
Kool Moe Dee,
Y Pants,
Joe Smooth,
Don Cherry,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Black Bananas,
48th St. Collective,
Man Eating Sloth,
Maleditus Sound,
Yaz,
Dennis Brown,
Rod Modell,
DJ Sneak,
Harpers Bizarre,
U.S. Maple,
Inner City,
Ornette Coleman,
The Offenders,
Sexual Harrassment,
ABBA,
Isaac Hayes,
Q and Not U,
Robert Görl,
Whodini,
Kevin Saunderson,
Easy Going,
Monks,
Swell Maps,
Ponytail,
Anakelly,
the Normal,
Flamin' Groovies,
Desert Stars,
Country Teasers,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.