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 Bangladesh and from Bremen.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Trojans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
The Residents,
Organ,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
Dorothy Ashby,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Invisible,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Crispy Ambulance,
Procol Harum,
The Angels of Light,
Chrome,
Stereo Dub,
June Days,
Marmalade,
Tomorrow,
Half Japanese,
Joensuu 1685,
Heaven 17,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Peter and Kerry,
Absolute Body Control,
New Age Steppers,
Inner City,
Michelle Simonal,
Warsaw,
Pantaleimon,
The Cowsills,
The Zeros,
Deadbeat,
Ohio Players,
The Durutti Column,
Section 25,
Jandek,
The Martian,
Crash Course in Science,
Ornette Coleman,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reagan Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Black Moon,
The Busters,
AZ,
Mark Hollis,
Glenn Branca,
Patti Smith,
Sandy B,
Reuben Wilson,
Talk Talk,
The Fire Engines,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Freddie Wadling,
Bill Near,
Echospace,
Jacob Miller,
The Vogues,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.