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 Uganda and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nirvana to the disco 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 Sly & The Family Stone. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ossler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Icehouse,
John Holt,
Fear,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Fela Kuti,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sällskapet,
Sonic Youth,
The Five Americans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
James White and The Blacks,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Young Rascals,
Lyres,
Hoover,
Camouflage,
Index,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Hardrive,
The Dirtbombs,
Roxy Music,
Bush Tetras,
Lakeside,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Cale,
Dark Day,
Hot Snakes,
Henry Cow,
The Monochrome Set,
The Shadows of Knight,
Rod Modell,
The Toasters,
Sixth Finger,
Man Parrish,
Rekid,
The Fire Engines,
John Foxx,
Scott Walker,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Laurel Aitken,
Angry Samoans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joensuu 1685,
Letta Mbulu,
X-Ray Spex,
Das Ding,
The Skatalites,
Gil Scott Heron,
Blake Baxter,
Lalann,
CMW,
the Swans,
Harry Pussy,
Donald Byrd,
Anakelly,
Dead Boys,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.