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 Mauritius and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the oboe 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 Malaria! to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Louis and Bebe Barron. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Gang Dance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gap Band,
Neu!,
Radiohead,
Nik Kershaw,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cluster,
Panda Bear,
B.T. Express,
Interpol,
ABC,
Cymande,
Los Fastidios,
Thee Headcoats,
Das Ding,
Idris Muhammad,
Marc Almond,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deadbeat,
the Association,
Talk Talk,
The Remains,
Mantronix,
the Sonics,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacques Brel,
Lungfish,
Absolute Body Control,
The Wake,
Unrelated Segments,
Quando Quango,
Tom Boy,
Matthew Bourne,
Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Zero Boys,
Silicon Teens,
Kayak,
The New Christs,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Heaven 17,
Hoover,
Ornette Coleman,
The Cramps,
The Neon Judgement,
Dawn Penn,
The Slits,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Boogie Down Productions,
Urselle,
Public Enemy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jeff Lynne,
Young Marble Giants,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
John Holt,
The Selecter,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.