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 Angola and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the sitar 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Pet Shop Boys,
Patti Smith,
Soul II Soul,
Franke,
Skriet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Judy Mowatt,
The Fortunes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Monks,
Q65,
Arcadia,
Fugazi,
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Saints,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Aswad,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Toasters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Reuben Wilson,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cecil Taylor,
Ultra Naté,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
This Heat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Deakin,
The Zeros,
Man Eating Sloth,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Electric Prunes,
Suicide,
Joe Finger,
Hot Snakes,
Moby Grape,
Gong,
The Fire Engines,
Warsaw,
Marmalade,
Avey Tare,
Unrelated Segments,
Anthony Braxton,
Youth Brigade,
The Monks,
Faraquet,
Connie Case,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alison Limerick,
Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
U.S. Maple,
Cheater Slicks,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Sherman,
Bill Near,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dorothy Ashby,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.