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 Suriname and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 Tokyo and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 rhodes 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Selecter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Birthday Party,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Flipper,
Cabaret Voltaire,
UT,
Warren Ellis,
The Music Machine,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brand Nubian,
Delta 5,
Organ,
K-Klass,
Pere Ubu,
The Beau Brummels,
Aural Exciters,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Angels of Light,
Kerri Chandler,
Boredoms,
The Invisible,
The Mojo Men,
Throbbing Gristle,
X-101,
Byron Stingily,
The Names,
Susan Cadogan,
The Dirtbombs,
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Wyatt,
Curtis Mayfield,
Kas Product,
Tears for Fears,
Marshall Jefferson,
the Germs,
Tres Demented,
Vainqueur,
Sandy B,
Model 500,
Gastr Del Sol,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
U.S. Maple,
June Days,
The Smiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Josef K,
Johnny Clarke,
Little Man,
Drive Like Jehu,
X-Ray Spex,
Yusef Lateef,
John Coltrane,
Magma,
Alice Coltrane,
Underground Resistance,
Fatback Band,
The Techniques,
The Leaves,
Lungfish,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.