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 Chad and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 Althea and Donna to the jazz 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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Moss Icon,
Dead Boys,
Soft Machine,
Letta Mbulu,
Moebius,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Carl Craig,
Con Funk Shun,
Scion,
The Misunderstood,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Babytalk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pierre Henry,
Royal Trux,
OOIOO,
Franke,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Human League,
a-ha,
Sun City Girls,
Robert Hood,
Ten City,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Peter and Kerry,
Blake Baxter,
Buzzcocks,
Bang On A Can,
Johnny Clarke,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Standells,
Janne Schatter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Mummies,
Bad Manners,
Roxy Music,
Easy Going,
The J.B.'s,
Lebanon Hanover,
Skaos,
Charles Mingus,
Motorama,
Deakin,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pere Ubu,
Radio Birdman,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sonic Youth,
Matthew Halsall,
Main Source,
Colin Newman,
48th St. Collective,
The Grass Roots,
Lindisfarne,
Drexciya,
Erykah Badu,
The Blues Magoos,
Make Up,
F. McDonald,
Vladislav Delay,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.