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 Romania and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 808 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 Slick Rick to the dance 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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
Theoretical Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Soul II Soul,
Swans,
Brick,
Rapeman,
Skarface,
R.M.O.,
Sister Nancy,
The Fire Engines,
H. Thieme,
Au Pairs,
Nils Olav,
Gong,
Fat Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Kas Product,
Marc Almond,
Procol Harum,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Hot Snakes,
Livin' Joy,
Mad Mike,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mr. Review,
Delta 5,
Arcadia,
Erykah Badu,
The Five Americans,
Cheater Slicks,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
The Birthday Party,
the Fania All-Stars,
Archie Shepp,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Johnny Osbourne,
Desert Stars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grauzone,
Glenn Branca,
Juan Atkins,
Flipper,
Ken Boothe,
Rites of Spring,
Lower 48,
Tres Demented,
Alton Ellis,
Ohio Players,
Maurizio,
Pussy Galore,
Boredoms,
Harmonia,
the Slits,
Icehouse,
The Moody Blues,
Colin Newman,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.