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 Uganda and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Cameo to the jazz 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
X-102,
Gichy Dan,
Hoover,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ronan,
The Gun Club,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skriet,
Eddi Front,
Bobbi Humphrey,
David Bowie,
Minnie Riperton,
Delta 5,
Magma,
The Remains,
Von Mondo,
The Count Five,
The Saints,
Babytalk,
Fluxion,
Alice Coltrane,
JFA,
Oneida,
James White and The Blacks,
Lalann,
The Offenders,
R.M.O.,
Wolf Eyes,
Davy DMX,
One Last Wish,
Jeff Lynne,
The Techniques,
Zapp,
Subhumans,
Stetsasonic,
The Grass Roots,
Buzzcocks,
Mr. Review,
10cc,
Public Enemy,
Loose Ends,
Technova,
Brothers Johnson,
Althea and Donna,
Sex Pistols,
Eric Dolphy,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Moleskins,
Ossler,
Marcia Griffiths,
Andrew Hill,
Ohio Players,
Magazine,
Don Cherry,
LL Cool J,
Scratch Acid,
Television,
Nas,
Dead Boys,
The Smoke,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.