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 Mozambique and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Tom Verlaine 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 DJ Sneak to the grunge 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Raincoats record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Camberwell Now,
Liliput,
Reuben Wilson,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rites of Spring,
Absolute Body Control,
Radiohead,
The Knickerbockers,
The Dead C,
Brick,
Spoonie Gee,
the Bar-Kays,
The Mummies,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun Ra,
Avey Tare,
The Monks,
Robert Görl,
Charles Mingus,
Rhythm & Sound,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cybotron,
Ohio Players,
The Birthday Party,
Fat Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Harmonia,
Warren Ellis,
Patti Smith,
The Martian,
a-ha,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Christie,
Wasted Youth,
John Lydon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cure,
Pharoah Sanders,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bob Dylan,
The Cramps,
Outsiders,
Pussy Galore,
Heaven 17,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Animal Collective,
Hot Snakes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Stockholm Monsters,
Whodini,
The Fuzztones,
Slave,
Delon & Dalcan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Sherman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Yazoo,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.