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 Malawi and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harpers Bizarre,
Peter and Kerry,
Rites of Spring,
The Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joe Finger,
Tears for Fears,
David Axelrod,
The Misunderstood,
Sonny Sharrock,
These Immortal Souls,
Dark Day,
The Index,
Carl Craig,
Flipper,
the Sonics,
Sugar Minott,
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Electric Prunes,
kango's stein massive,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Moody Blues,
Sixth Finger,
The Cramps,
Joe Smooth,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blackbyrds,
The Toasters,
Ronnie Foster,
Lalo Schifrin,
The United States of America,
EPMD,
Half Japanese,
The Selecter,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Evens,
Maurizio,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
The Associates,
James White and The Blacks,
The Birthday Party,
Erasure,
Vainqueur,
The Slackers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Roxy Music,
Colin Newman,
AZ,
Magazine,
Aloha Tigers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tubeway Army,
Interpol,
Kurtis Blow,
Lyres,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.