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 Algeria and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Neu! to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
Scan 7,
Echospace,
The Cure,
Grauzone,
Eric B and Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Charles Mingus,
Donald Byrd,
The Barracudas,
Hardrive,
The Skatalites,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fear,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alison Limerick,
Visage,
Judy Mowatt,
Sonic Youth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Surgeon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Accadde A,
The Gun Club,
Y Pants,
Fad Gadget,
Icehouse,
PIL,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eli Mardock,
Wasted Youth,
Radio Birdman,
David Bowie,
The Birthday Party,
Inner City,
Juan Atkins,
Godley & Creme,
Sister Nancy,
Spoonie Gee,
Bauhaus,
the Human League,
Bootsy Collins,
The Raincoats,
The Blues Magoos,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Donny Hathaway,
Skriet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Zeros,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Erasure,
Nirvana,
John Cale,
Don Cherry,
Groovy Waters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
These Immortal Souls,
Aural Exciters,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Negative Approach,
Howard Jones,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.