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 Kuwait and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Robert Palmer 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 Lou Reed to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Radio Birdman,
The Moody Blues,
Cybotron,
Eddi Front,
The Divine Comedy,
Buzzcocks,
Swell Maps,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Man Eating Sloth,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Index,
The Remains,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glenn Branca,
Von Mondo,
Tom Boy,
Scrapy,
Procol Harum,
Bootsy Collins,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The New Christs,
The Cure,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultimate Spinach,
New York Dolls,
Banda Bassotti,
Terrestrial Tones,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tears for Fears,
The Star Department,
Slave,
The Zeros,
Lou Christie,
Cecil Taylor,
Make Up,
Byron Stingily,
Aaron Thompson,
Essential Logic,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ice-T,
U.S. Maple,
Nick Fraelich,
Dead Boys,
Khruangbin,
Fad Gadget,
The Black Dice,
The Electric Prunes,
Blossom Toes,
New Order,
Crash Course in Science,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Model 500,
Monks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lower 48,
John Holt,
Eve St. Jones,
Ronan,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.