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 Yemen and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Patti Smith to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Junior Murvin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Flash Fearless,
Interpol,
R.M.O.,
Basic Channel,
Boredoms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gabor Szabo,
Harry Pussy,
Popol Vuh,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Max Romeo,
Wally Richardson,
Ronan,
Agent Orange,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Stiv Bators,
Sight & Sound,
The Fortunes,
Althea and Donna,
The Knickerbockers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Move,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Easy Going,
Rekid,
The Techniques,
Erasure,
Eurythmics,
Loose Ends,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ponytail,
Davy DMX,
Malaria!,
The Birthday Party,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Siglo XX,
Wire,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mars,
Swell Maps,
Monks,
Skarface,
Terrestrial Tones,
Animal Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Second Layer,
Procol Harum,
The Slits,
Cecil Taylor,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Electric Prunes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Con Funk Shun,
Desert Stars,
The Cramps,
The Remains,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.