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 Palau and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 güiro 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 Freddie Wadling to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Pop Group,
La Düsseldorf,
The Pretty Things,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
Johnny Clarke,
Average White Band,
Angry Samoans,
the Normal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Neu!,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Black Sheep,
Audionom,
X-102,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
Ultra Naté,
Brand Nubian,
Pylon,
Bobby Sherman,
The Five Americans,
Radiohead,
Ralphi Rosario,
Carl Craig,
Barrington Levy,
Pantytec,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ultravox,
Godley & Creme,
Jacques Brel,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Porter Ricks,
Boredoms,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wally Richardson,
Scientists,
Q and Not U,
Scan 7,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed,
Sam Rivers,
Dennis Brown,
Todd Terry,
The Standells,
Howard Jones,
Donny Hathaway,
Suicide,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Cramps,
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
Main Source,
The Index,
Tim Buckley,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.