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 Egypt and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Letta Mbulu. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eden Ahbez,
Jacques Brel,
Mad Mike,
Big Daddy Kane,
Procol Harum,
Section 25,
Laurel Aitken,
EPMD,
UT,
Man Parrish,
Ronnie Foster,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Associates,
Barry Ungar,
Eddi Front,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Harmonia,
Kas Product,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fugazi,
Delta 5,
Newcleus,
The Smiths,
8 Eyed Spy,
Donny Hathaway,
Index,
Pole,
Adolescents,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Cowsills,
Anakelly,
Whodini,
Lou Christie,
The Detroit Cobras,
Janne Schatter,
Eve St. Jones,
The Music Machine,
Accadde A,
Funkadelic,
The Invisible,
The Saints,
Crime,
the Human League,
Roger Hodgson,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Real Kids,
Brass Construction,
Rotary Connection,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeru the Damaja,
Royal Trux,
Andrew Hill,
T. Rex,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scratch Acid,
Tomorrow,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.