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 Lithuania and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Supertramp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Warren Ellis,
Yazoo,
Joyce Sims,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobby Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mission of Burma,
Qualms,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Index,
New Age Steppers,
Laurel Aitken,
In Retrospect,
The Busters,
T. Rex,
Kaleidoscope,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scan 7,
Sex Pistols,
Cybotron,
Robert Hood,
Shoche,
Jeff Mills,
Donald Byrd,
Blake Baxter,
The Durutti Column,
Underground Resistance,
Harmonia,
Roger Hodgson,
The Five Americans,
Whodini,
the Normal,
The Gories,
The Real Kids,
Basic Channel,
Public Enemy,
Bang On A Can,
Cecil Taylor,
Sugar Minott,
Mandrill,
The Blues Magoos,
The Buckinghams,
Interpol,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Detroit Cobras,
Hasil Adkins,
Monolake,
The Divine Comedy,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Oblivians,
UT,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hoover,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Wasted Youth,
Pierre Henry,
Yellowson,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.