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 Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro 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 Sex Pistols to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
The Five Americans,
Blancmange,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Negative Approach,
Inner City,
Prince Buster,
Josef K,
the Association,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sound Behaviour,
T.S.O.L.,
Hasil Adkins,
Skarface,
The Slackers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Mummies,
Deadbeat,
Joe Smooth,
FM Einheit,
Archie Shepp,
The Happenings,
Ultra Naté,
Danielle Patucci,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Alphaville,
A Certain Ratio,
Rod Modell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Frankie Knuckles,
Half Japanese,
X-102,
Sun Ra,
Rekid,
U.S. Maple,
Babytalk,
Underground Resistance,
One Last Wish,
Talk Talk,
Kerri Chandler,
These Immortal Souls,
Donny Hathaway,
The Angels of Light,
CMW,
Ituana,
The Gladiators,
Fugazi,
Drexciya,
Goldenarms,
Bang On A Can,
Hardrive,
Slick Rick,
Freddie Wadling,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Roger Hodgson,
Popol Vuh,
Henry Cow,
Arcadia,
8 Eyed Spy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Derrick Morgan,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.