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 Antigua and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nirvana to the jazz 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Circle Jerks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Angry Samoans,
Moby Grape,
Desert Stars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Y Pants,
Yazoo,
Throbbing Gristle,
Parry Music,
Jeff Mills,
The Leaves,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Accadde A,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Vogues,
Avey Tare,
Pharoah Sanders,
Iggy Pop,
Blossom Toes,
Crooked Eye,
Animal Collective,
the Normal,
Gang Green,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Womack,
The Fall,
Boz Scaggs,
Bauhaus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Technova,
Rites of Spring,
Blake Baxter,
Idris Muhammad,
The Wake,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Popol Vuh,
Nas,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Beau Brummels,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ronnie Foster,
The Fortunes,
Al Stewart,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nick Fraelich,
Wasted Youth,
Cheater Slicks,
Interpol,
Mad Mike,
Swell Maps,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Procol Harum,
MC5,
Steve Hackett,
The Zeros,
Minor Threat,
The Flesh Eaters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Siouxsie and the Banshees.
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.