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 Gabon and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Royal Family And The Poor to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
The Moleskins,
Newcleus,
The New Christs,
Nik Kershaw,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
Procol Harum,
Wally Richardson,
Sight & Sound,
The Busters,
Thompson Twins,
The Monochrome Set,
A Certain Ratio,
Schoolly D,
The Gladiators,
The Misunderstood,
The Associates,
Glenn Branca,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wasted Youth,
Pussy Galore,
Erykah Badu,
Radiohead,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Make Up,
the Fania All-Stars,
Subhumans,
Bad Manners,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Royal Trux,
a-ha,
Quantec,
La Düsseldorf,
Sparks,
Donny Hathaway,
Pere Ubu,
Minutemen,
This Heat,
Harry Pussy,
Chris & Cosey,
Colin Newman,
Al Stewart,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bill Wells,
Alison Limerick,
Groovy Waters,
Sällskapet,
John Lydon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Donald Byrd,
Marshall Jefferson,
X-101,
The Sonics,
The Offenders,
Davy DMX,
Mars,
Tomorrow,
Wings,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.