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 Congo and from Hong Kong.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Thompson Twins to the grunge 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
the Swans,
Hardrive,
James White and The Blacks,
Bill Near,
Ituana,
Ponytail,
Robert Wyatt,
Minny Pops,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wings,
Marcia Griffiths,
Smog,
Stiv Bators,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Excepter,
Reagan Youth,
Danielle Patucci,
Skaos,
The Names,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Real Kids,
The Monks,
Wally Richardson,
Sixth Finger,
Kenny Larkin,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Doors,
The Offenders,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Easy Going,
Underground Resistance,
Make Up,
Mark Hollis,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dead C,
Basic Channel,
the Slits,
Grauzone,
Von Mondo,
Procol Harum,
Gang Starr,
Blossom Toes,
Pussy Galore,
Lyres,
Minor Threat,
Schoolly D,
Neil Young,
Curtis Mayfield,
Main Source,
Thompson Twins,
Babytalk,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lakeside,
The Beau Brummels,
Fugazi,
Henry Cow,
Index,
Vainqueur,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Golliwogs,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.