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 Cape Verde and from Paris.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cameo to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Blancmange,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Leonard Cohen,
Neil Young,
the Human League,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Altered Images,
H. Thieme,
Judy Mowatt,
The Techniques,
Crash Course in Science,
Derrick Morgan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Junior Murvin,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Vogues,
Q65,
Pylon,
Trumans Water,
Pulsallama,
kango's stein massive,
The Moody Blues,
Easy Going,
Eddi Front,
Robert Hood,
Minor Threat,
Kurtis Blow,
Reuben Wilson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Country Teasers,
The New Christs,
Skaos,
The Invisible,
Scrapy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Johnny Clarke,
Roxy Music,
The Slits,
Thee Headcoats,
Minutemen,
Sixth Finger,
Desert Stars,
John Coltrane,
Fela Kuti,
The American Breed,
The Buckinghams,
Bob Dylan,
The Standells,
Donny Hathaway,
Yaz,
Sex Pistols,
FM Einheit,
New Order,
Harmonia,
The Young Rascals,
Pere Ubu,
Marine Girls,
Nas,
Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7, Scan 7.
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.