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 East Timor and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 rhodes 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 The Barracudas to the dance 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 Nas. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
The Stooges,
Moss Icon,
Kerri Chandler,
Soft Cell,
the Slits,
The Gap Band,
The Barracudas,
Symarip,
Skriet,
Tom Boy,
Depeche Mode,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Surgeon,
Lower 48,
Joensuu 1685,
Quantec,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Terrestrial Tones,
Alton Ellis,
Goldenarms,
Franke,
Archie Shepp,
Jeff Mills,
the Swans,
Crime,
FM Einheit,
Alphaville,
The Golliwogs,
The Moleskins,
Bad Manners,
Sun City Girls,
The Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Janne Schatter,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Shoche,
The Durutti Column,
Newcleus,
Susan Cadogan,
Tommy Roe,
Minnie Riperton,
X-Ray Spex,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fuzztones,
Liliput,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Angels of Light,
The Red Krayola,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
A Certain Ratio,
The Black Dice,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Iggy Pop,
U.S. Maple,
Amazonics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Easy Going,
Ituana,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.