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 Burundi and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tropical Tobacco to the rap 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 The Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
James White and The Blacks,
Spandau Ballet,
Procol Harum,
Vainqueur,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nation of Ulysses,
Adolescents,
D'Angelo,
Intrusion,
Thompson Twins,
Fear,
Banda Bassotti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drexciya,
Pantaleimon,
The Neon Judgement,
Neu!,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minutemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
Deadbeat,
Hoover,
Sugar Minott,
Suburban Knight,
Circle Jerks,
Half Japanese,
Davy DMX,
Bobby Sherman,
T. Rex,
the Slits,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Organ,
Silicon Teens,
Man Eating Sloth,
CMW,
The Barracudas,
Soul Sonic Force,
Youth Brigade,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soulsonic Force,
The United States of America,
Jesper Dahlback,
Todd Rundgren,
The Real Kids,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dark Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Little Man,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Wyatt,
Unwound,
The Cramps,
R.M.O.,
the Swans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fugazi,
One Last Wish,
Fad Gadget,
Aswad,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.