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 Costa Rica and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 snare 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 The Electric Prunes to the jazz 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Sister Nancy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers Ubiquity record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MDC,
Lucky Dragons,
Kas Product,
Connie Case,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Average White Band,
Terry Callier,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Radio Birdman,
Black Pus,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Bar-Kays,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed,
Sugar Minott,
Mars,
Easy Going,
Dennis Brown,
Robert Wyatt,
Agent Orange,
Pantytec,
The Cowsills,
Althea and Donna,
Skarface,
Nirvana,
Freddie Wadling,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Roxy Music,
The Wake,
Stetsasonic,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Happenings,
Aswad,
Neu!,
Magazine,
The Walker Brothers,
Patti Smith,
Marine Girls,
Eric B and Rakim,
a-ha,
Al Stewart,
Goldenarms,
The Velvet Underground,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Count Five,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Certain Ratio,
Banda Bassotti,
Wire,
The Gladiators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Talk Talk,
Section 25,
Nils Olav,
D'Angelo,
Prince Buster,
Excepter,
Ultravox,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Bourne,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.