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 Ivory Coast and from Shanghai.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 güiro 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 Symarip to the rock 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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Bananas,
Soul II Soul,
Dennis Brown,
Suicide,
The Smoke,
Jawbox,
Japan,
John Cale,
Johnny Osbourne,
Newcleus,
MDC,
Faraquet,
Jeff Mills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Saccharine Trust,
The Vogues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Anakelly,
Aswad,
Nils Olav,
Kevin Saunderson,
Faust,
The Smiths,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tommy Roe,
Talk Talk,
Qualms,
The Golliwogs,
Zero Boys,
Grey Daturas,
DJ Sneak,
Chrome,
Sarah Menescal,
Suburban Knight,
Kayak,
The Happenings,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Young Marble Giants,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric B and Rakim,
U.S. Maple,
The Buckinghams,
Franke,
KRS-One,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Marvin Gaye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Fire Engines,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cluster,
Pantaleimon,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Byrd,
Moby Grape,
K-Klass,
Fluxion,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.