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 Kiribati and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dead Boys to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All The Velvet Underground tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Man Parrish,
Terry Callier,
Deadbeat,
Drexciya,
Sonic Youth,
Grauzone,
Dark Day,
PIL,
Rapeman,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Brand Nubian,
The Raincoats,
Bobby Womack,
The Five Americans,
LL Cool J,
Trumans Water,
The Seeds,
Roger Hodgson,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nico,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hardrive,
Fluxion,
The Birthday Party,
Average White Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Bush Tetras,
June Days,
Davy DMX,
Icehouse,
Soft Cell,
the Sonics,
Pantaleimon,
the Bar-Kays,
Sandy B,
David Axelrod,
Electric Prunes,
The Sound,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Skarface,
Lightning Bolt,
Erykah Badu,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Anthony Braxton,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jerry's Kids,
The Moleskins,
Ten City,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultra Naté,
Chris Corsano,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Moss Icon,
The Black Dice,
Roxy Music,
Glenn Branca,
Procol Harum,
The Grass Roots,
The Associates, The Associates, The Associates, The Associates.
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.