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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the rap 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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Toni Rubio,
Marvin Gaye,
Parry Music,
Ornette Coleman,
Deepchord,
The Monochrome Set,
Qualms,
Harpers Bizarre,
Skaos,
La Düsseldorf,
Donny Hathaway,
Jerry's Kids,
the Normal,
Little Man,
Connie Case,
The Young Rascals,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sixth Finger,
Camberwell Now,
The Raincoats,
Pulsallama,
Eurythmics,
Bill Near,
Make Up,
David Axelrod,
Average White Band,
Marc Almond,
Lungfish,
The Wake,
Terry Callier,
The Remains,
Ultimate Spinach,
Donald Byrd,
Cybotron,
Heaven 17,
In Retrospect,
The Dead C,
Crispy Ambulance,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lebanon Hanover,
Banda Bassotti,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Wally Richardson,
Severed Heads,
Henry Cow,
Hot Snakes,
Cal Tjader,
Al Stewart,
Marcia Griffiths,
Vainqueur,
Nick Fraelich,
Roy Ayers,
Slave,
Mo-Dettes,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Johnny Clarke,
Wolf Eyes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.