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 United Kingdom and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 spring reverb 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 Mr. Review to the rock kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Slick Rick,
June of 44,
Derrick Morgan,
Warsaw,
Eric Dolphy,
The Monks,
Bang On A Can,
Mad Mike,
Frankie Knuckles,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Bananas,
EPMD,
Juan Atkins,
The Techniques,
Tres Demented,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Yusef Lateef,
Connie Case,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Gladiators,
Jawbox,
Sandy B,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fat Boys,
The Selecter,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stereo Dub,
Spoonie Gee,
The Invisible,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Detroit Cobras,
Black Flag,
Buzzcocks,
Crime,
Eddi Front,
Erykah Badu,
Blancmange,
Gang Starr,
Nick Fraelich,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alphaville,
Amon Düül II,
Rhythm & Sound,
DNA,
Barrington Levy,
Inner City,
the Normal,
The United States of America,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
CMW,
The Divine Comedy,
the Association,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Public Enemy,
Rotary Connection,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.