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 Jordan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 Morten Harket to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Half Japanese,
Con Funk Shun,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Birthday Party,
Nirvana,
Ossler,
the Human League,
Erykah Badu,
Soulsonic Force,
Mandrill,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fat Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Hashim,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Walker Brothers,
Jawbox,
Yusef Lateef,
Marine Girls,
Section 25,
The Moody Blues,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Index,
Country Teasers,
Make Up,
Joy Division,
Matthew Halsall,
Oneida,
Johnny Osbourne,
Don Cherry,
The Gladiators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jeff Lynne,
Radio Birdman,
Newcleus,
CMW,
Model 500,
Icehouse,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Cramps,
Magazine,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Red Krayola,
the Sonics,
Liliput,
Animal Collective,
Deakin,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
Fad Gadget,
Matthew Bourne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
K-Klass,
Little Man,
Josef K,
Sex Pistols,
Ludus,
Fugazi,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.