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 Equatorial Guinea and from New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Black Moon to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Jesus and Mary Chain record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Masters at Work,
Sex Pistols,
The Dead C,
Excepter,
Blancmange,
Barbara Tucker,
Faust,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Harpers Bizarre,
Roxy Music,
The Monks,
Banda Bassotti,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Unwound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gories,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Icehouse,
A Certain Ratio,
The Music Machine,
Bang On A Can,
Pierre Henry,
The Tremeloes,
Piero Umiliani,
Cal Tjader,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
kango's stein massive,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dorothy Ashby,
Barry Ungar,
Hoover,
Siglo XX,
Pole,
Animal Collective,
Bush Tetras,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Skatalites,
K-Klass,
Kerri Chandler,
Monolake,
Half Japanese,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Saints,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deadbeat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Shadows of Knight,
Talk Talk,
Mark Hollis,
48th St. Collective,
The J.B.'s,
Laurel Aitken,
Qualms,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.