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 Portugal and from Sao Paulo.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the rap 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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Eric Copeland,
Von Mondo,
Rekid,
Easy Going,
Gang of Four,
Boredoms,
The Techniques,
Vainqueur,
Radiohead,
David Bowie,
The Invisible,
Kenny Larkin,
Boz Scaggs,
The Evens,
Graham Central Station,
Alison Limerick,
The Martian,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scratch Acid,
Mo-Dettes,
the Germs,
Japan,
The Mighty Diamonds,
June of 44,
Trumans Water,
Deepchord,
EPMD,
Cluster,
Jawbox,
Buzzcocks,
The Vogues,
Mad Mike,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Sound,
The Angels of Light,
Donny Hathaway,
Warren Ellis,
Basic Channel,
Peter & Gordon,
Marc Almond,
Albert Ayler,
Tomorrow,
Gang Green,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Clear Light,
Terry Callier,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Grey Daturas,
Eddi Front,
Charles Mingus,
DJ Sneak,
Aloha Tigers,
Ken Boothe,
Jacob Miller,
The Gories,
The Remains,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.