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 Solomon Islands and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Agent Orange to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Bananas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Niagra,
Los Fastidios,
Idris Muhammad,
Pharoah Sanders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Connie Case,
The Techniques,
Arthur Verocai,
Malaria!,
Dawn Penn,
Public Enemy,
Lakeside,
Donald Byrd,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Bush Tetras,
John Foxx,
Soul II Soul,
Morten Harket,
Man Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
Aural Exciters,
David Bowie,
Popol Vuh,
The Dirtbombs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rekid,
The Angels of Light,
Agent Orange,
Qualms,
X-101,
Gastr Del Sol,
New Age Steppers,
Essential Logic,
Underground Resistance,
The Red Krayola,
Gang Green,
U.S. Maple,
Reuben Wilson,
The Golliwogs,
Gichy Dan,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Neon Judgement,
New York Dolls,
Camberwell Now,
Quadrant,
Roger Hodgson,
Andrew Hill,
Yaz,
Tubeway Army,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dorothy Ashby,
Junior Murvin,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yazoo,
Derrick May,
The Vogues,
Wolf Eyes,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.