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 Zambia and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Los Fastidios to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Michelle Simonal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young,
The Smiths,
The Last Poets,
Reuben Wilson,
Pagans,
Magma,
48th St. Collective,
Derrick Morgan,
Heaven 17,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
DNA,
Minutemen,
Goldenarms,
Public Image Ltd.,
Colin Newman,
Freddie Wadling,
Deakin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Outsiders,
Gang of Four,
Sister Nancy,
Panda Bear,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dead C,
Public Enemy,
Janne Schatter,
Tom Boy,
The Selecter,
The Moleskins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Talk Talk,
Toni Rubio,
Minor Threat,
Gong,
Fela Kuti,
June Days,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Shuggie Otis,
The Pretty Things,
Rotary Connection,
T. Rex,
The Wake,
Crispy Ambulance,
Carl Craig,
Brass Construction,
Agitation Free,
Glenn Branca,
The Names,
Deepchord,
The Gun Club,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Seeds,
Accadde A,
Chris & Cosey,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quadrant,
Johnny Clarke,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.