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 Luxembourg and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord 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 Public Image Ltd. to the grime 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bad Manners record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alison Limerick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
Flipper,
John Holt,
The Toasters,
The Tremeloes,
Slave,
The Monks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Pus,
The Buckinghams,
June of 44,
Sonny Sharrock,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
D'Angelo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lindisfarne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Moebius,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
10cc,
Goldenarms,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David Axelrod,
The Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Byrd,
Thee Headcoats,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pylon,
Yusef Lateef,
Nick Fraelich,
Hot Snakes,
Black Flag,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Leaves,
Hashim,
The Gap Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Country Teasers,
Ornette Coleman,
Visage,
Spandau Ballet,
Lightning Bolt,
Harmonia,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Amon Düül,
Crooked Eye,
Eli Mardock,
Blake Baxter,
The Gun Club,
Niagra,
Barclay James Harvest,
Interpol,
Technova,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.