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 Belarus and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Thee Headcoats to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
the Soft Cell,
Altered Images,
H. Thieme,
Electric Prunes,
Swans,
Das Ding,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stiv Bators,
The Fortunes,
Youth Brigade,
Goldenarms,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jacques Brel,
Pussy Galore,
the Slits,
Duran Duran,
Robert Görl,
Barrington Levy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Q65,
Yusef Lateef,
Aloha Tigers,
Freddie Wadling,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Spoonie Gee,
Crooked Eye,
Guru Guru,
The Last Poets,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Germs,
Carl Craig,
Bush Tetras,
48th St. Collective,
The Fire Engines,
Ultravox,
Suicide,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Music Machine,
Warren Ellis,
Inner City,
Neil Young,
Kurtis Blow,
Massinfluence,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fatback Band,
Ossler,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gong,
Metal Thangz,
June of 44,
Simply Red,
Davy DMX,
John Cale,
Avey Tare,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.