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 Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Patti Smith 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every In Retrospect record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Minutemen,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Yazoo,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
Steve Hackett,
Trumans Water,
Heaven 17,
Alton Ellis,
Grey Daturas,
Newcleus,
Hot Snakes,
Soft Machine,
Tomorrow,
Cluster,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sun Ra,
Kevin Saunderson,
Brothers Johnson,
The Sound,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cecil Taylor,
Index,
Avey Tare,
Reuben Wilson,
Todd Terry,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Don Cherry,
Andrew Hill,
Malaria!,
The Red Krayola,
The Wake,
X-101,
Soulsonic Force,
James White and The Blacks,
Symarip,
The Cramps,
Boz Scaggs,
Pole,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kenny Larkin,
World's Most,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Nils Olav,
Joe Smooth,
ABBA,
Matthew Bourne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Zapp,
Public Enemy,
MC5,
Marvin Gaye,
Traffic Nightmare,
T. Rex,
Tubeway Army,
MDC,
The Busters,
The Barracudas,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.