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 Croatia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Taipei and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Holger Czukay 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Vladislav Delay,
Fear,
Black Sheep,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Names,
Aloha Tigers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pantytec,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bauhaus,
Mars,
H. Thieme,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Gun Club,
Leonard Cohen,
Avey Tare,
Danielle Patucci,
Boz Scaggs,
Man Parrish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Thee Headcoats,
Sam Rivers,
Mark Hollis,
Cheater Slicks,
Jacob Miller,
The Vogues,
Brass Construction,
The Doors,
The Divine Comedy,
Eurythmics,
Dual Sessions,
The Angels of Light,
China Crisis,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
New Age Steppers,
Black Bananas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bootsy Collins,
the Association,
Fad Gadget,
Inner City,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Henry Cow,
Fatback Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cecil Taylor,
Arab on Radar,
The Happenings,
Monolake,
Junior Murvin,
Rakim,
The Trojans,
Scratch Acid,
Jawbox,
Maleditus Sound,
David Bowie,
Chris & Cosey,
Freddie Wadling,
Lungfish,
Tomorrow,
Big Daddy Kane,
The New Christs,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.