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 Antigua and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord 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 Banda Bassotti to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Deadbeat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Eden Ahbez,
Unwound,
New Order,
OOIOO,
John Holt,
Interpol,
Bronski Beat,
The Young Rascals,
The Blues Magoos,
Sun City Girls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Funkadelic,
Rufus Thomas,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ronnie Foster,
The Neon Judgement,
The Five Americans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Offenders,
Television Personalities,
Bluetip,
Delta 5,
Cheater Slicks,
Lindisfarne,
Camberwell Now,
The Slackers,
Rakim,
The J.B.'s,
Surgeon,
Kerri Chandler,
Hoover,
The Real Kids,
The Mummies,
David McCallum,
Goldenarms,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lower 48,
the Normal,
Todd Terry,
Ken Boothe,
Popol Vuh,
Bush Tetras,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Names,
Mark Hollis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Public Enemy,
Idris Muhammad,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Television,
Arab on Radar,
Minutemen,
H. Thieme,
Dual Sessions,
Joensuu 1685,
Siglo XX,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.