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 Tunisia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the dance 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
T.S.O.L.,
David Bowie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Urselle,
Neu!,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nik Kershaw,
Severed Heads,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Malaria!,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Chrome,
Idris Muhammad,
X-102,
Minny Pops,
Inner City,
The Star Department,
The Divine Comedy,
Joey Negro,
Faust,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
La Düsseldorf,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Warsaw,
Das Ding,
Procol Harum,
Black Bananas,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Technova,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cal Tjader,
Faraquet,
Roger Hodgson,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ultra Naté,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Dead Boys,
Marvin Gaye,
Gong,
The Skatalites,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Sonics,
Tommy Roe,
New York Dolls,
Barry Ungar,
OOIOO,
Guru Guru,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swans,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Curtis Mayfield,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Kerrie Biddell,
Robert Wyatt,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Slits,
Josef K,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.