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 Uruguay and from Mexico City.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 James White and The Blacks to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fire Engines,
X-101,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nas,
The Flesh Eaters,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Human League,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Real Kids,
Jerry's Kids,
James White and The Blacks,
Porter Ricks,
Minny Pops,
The Mighty Diamonds,
FM Einheit,
Duran Duran,
Brand Nubian,
Shuggie Otis,
Groovy Waters,
Oneida,
Section 25,
Robert Hood,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The New Christs,
Parry Music,
Faust,
Howard Jones,
Colin Newman,
Slave,
Ultravox,
Ultra Naté,
Darondo,
Hasil Adkins,
Unwound,
Lalo Schifrin,
Deadbeat,
Marcia Griffiths,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rod Modell,
Vainqueur,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Skaos,
Kool Moe Dee,
Donny Hathaway,
The Martian,
Symarip,
Accadde A,
Marc Almond,
Neil Young,
Scan 7,
Hot Snakes,
Cameo,
Fat Boys,
Ronnie Foster,
Josef K,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Can,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.