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 Venezuela and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yazoo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oneida,
Sparks,
Alison Limerick,
R.M.O.,
Adolescents,
Quantec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pierre Henry,
Supertramp,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ronnie Foster,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pussy Galore,
Amazonics,
Barbara Tucker,
Echospace,
The Last Poets,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pere Ubu,
Wally Richardson,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Divine Comedy,
Piero Umiliani,
Guru Guru,
The Velvet Underground,
Symarip,
Cecil Taylor,
Laurel Aitken,
Motorama,
The Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gregory Isaacs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ultimate Spinach,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Colin Newman,
Malaria!,
Bizarre Inc.,
La Düsseldorf,
Anthony Braxton,
Nik Kershaw,
Lyres,
David Axelrod,
Neil Young,
Blancmange,
The Blackbyrds,
Masters at Work,
DNA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Depeche Mode,
The Dead C,
FM Einheit,
Darondo,
UT,
Roxy Music,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.