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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 organ 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 Danielle Patucci to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Motorama,
The Fortunes,
48th St. Collective,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Dead Boys,
The Moleskins,
Sarah Menescal,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Crash Course in Science,
Cheater Slicks,
the Swans,
Radiohead,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott Heron,
Supertramp,
Soft Machine,
Bootsy Collins,
Mo-Dettes,
Masters at Work,
Kerrie Biddell,
Excepter,
Sixth Finger,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cybotron,
Moby Grape,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Siglo XX,
Deadbeat,
Section 25,
X-Ray Spex,
T. Rex,
Barrington Levy,
a-ha,
John Coltrane,
The Kinks,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Star Department,
Sister Nancy,
Bill Near,
The Raincoats,
The Velvet Underground,
The Blues Magoos,
Jawbox,
Flipper,
The Divine Comedy,
X-102,
The New Christs,
Eden Ahbez,
Terrestrial Tones,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Skaos,
Althea and Donna,
The Wake,
Eli Mardock,
DJ Style,
These Immortal Souls,
D'Angelo,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Fire Engines,
CMW,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.