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 Uruguay and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
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 Bad Manners to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül II,
The Invisible,
Rites of Spring,
Scott Walker,
Rapeman,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fire Engines,
Mark Hollis,
La Düsseldorf,
Lower 48,
Kaleidoscope,
The Remains,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Excepter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Modern Lovers,
Lebanon Hanover,
The J.B.'s,
Harry Pussy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skriet,
Scrapy,
Camberwell Now,
These Immortal Souls,
Jandek,
The Barracudas,
Angry Samoans,
Scion,
X-Ray Spex,
Fluxion,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Ice-T,
Joensuu 1685,
John Coltrane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
David Bowie,
Jeff Lynne,
Cymande,
Crispian St. Peters,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Marvin Gaye,
Todd Rundgren,
UT,
Neil Young,
Lee Hazlewood,
Pagans,
Deadbeat,
Essential Logic,
Aural Exciters,
Index,
Skarface,
the Fania All-Stars,
Barry Ungar,
New York Dolls,
The Star Department,
The Cramps,
Brick,
Eve St. Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.