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 New Zealand and from Madrid.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Buckinghams to the punk 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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande 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 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
Eve St. Jones,
The Cramps,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
Jeff Mills,
Godley & Creme,
The Sonics,
Avey Tare,
The Evens,
Matthew Halsall,
Slave,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Tubeway Army,
Smog,
Henry Cow,
the Human League,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bauhaus,
Amon Düül II,
Joy Division,
the Fania All-Stars,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Wyatt,
The Monks,
Clear Light,
Von Mondo,
Malaria!,
Scratch Acid,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Clarke,
Laurel Aitken,
Maleditus Sound,
Carl Craig,
Donald Byrd,
The Golliwogs,
Rakim,
Procol Harum,
The Neon Judgement,
Judy Mowatt,
Dawn Penn,
David Bowie,
Moebius,
Shoche,
Lakeside,
Talk Talk,
Subhumans,
Tim Buckley,
OOIOO,
Delta 5,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Womack,
Mr. Review,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.