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 Swaziland and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Adolescents to the punk 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Judy Mowatt,
Surgeon,
Piero Umiliani,
Jacob Miller,
Scott Walker,
Fugazi,
Intrusion,
Ronnie Foster,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joey Negro,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tom Boy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scientists,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Flipper,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
Heaven 17,
James White and The Blacks,
The Motions,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Schoolly D,
The Skatalites,
Index,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultravox,
Blancmange,
DJ Sneak,
Harmonia,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Mandrill,
Audionom,
Mission of Burma,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Busters,
Basic Channel,
the Soft Cell,
The Trojans,
Connie Case,
Donald Byrd,
Radiohead,
Black Flag,
Thee Headcoats,
Half Japanese,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
One Last Wish,
Nirvana,
Scratch Acid,
Vainqueur,
Drexciya,
Cameo,
The Gories,
Electric Prunes,
Unrelated Segments,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.