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 Egypt and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Michael McDonald 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 Lalann to the disco 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Livin' Joy,
Johnny Clarke,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Adolescents,
Sparks,
Danielle Patucci,
the Germs,
The Offenders,
Y Pants,
Kerrie Biddell,
Crash Course in Science,
Technova,
Hoover,
Tres Demented,
Circle Jerks,
Scion,
Blancmange,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Cure,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eli Mardock,
Sandy B,
Mark Hollis,
Marvin Gaye,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mad Mike,
Darondo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Letta Mbulu,
The Blues Magoos,
Jandek,
Gang Starr,
Rakim,
H. Thieme,
Whodini,
This Heat,
Harpers Bizarre,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fad Gadget,
Vladislav Delay,
ABC,
The Moody Blues,
Unwound,
Flamin' Groovies,
MDC,
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
AZ,
Echospace,
Kerri Chandler,
Groovy Waters,
Arab on Radar,
Ten City,
Amon Düül,
Severed Heads,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.