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 Azerbaijan and from Beijing.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sällskapet to the jazz 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Order record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
cv313,
Roger Hodgson,
Negative Approach,
Unwound,
Minnie Riperton,
Liliput,
Mission of Burma,
K-Klass,
The Vogues,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Piero Umiliani,
Lungfish,
Maleditus Sound,
Can,
Gang Green,
Donald Byrd,
MC5,
Brothers Johnson,
Quadrant,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Pierre Henry,
Slick Rick,
Dual Sessions,
Suburban Knight,
Scott Walker,
Intrusion,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Erykah Badu,
Roy Ayers,
Barrington Levy,
Bluetip,
The Five Americans,
The United States of America,
Porter Ricks,
The Slits,
Joe Smooth,
Sonic Youth,
Ten City,
Gang Starr,
Electric Prunes,
CMW,
Jacques Brel,
Wire,
Curtis Mayfield,
Q65,
Peter and Kerry,
L. Decosne,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Soul II Soul,
The Cramps,
Television,
Pulsallama,
Country Teasers,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Star Department,
Los Fastidios,
Brass Construction,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deadbeat,
Cheater Slicks,
Trumans Water,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo.
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.