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 Costa Rica and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord 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 Drexciya to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Icehouse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every E-Dancer 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gang of Four,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Basic Channel,
Lindisfarne,
Bang On A Can,
T. Rex,
Toni Rubio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
The Black Dice,
Duran Duran,
Crispian St. Peters,
Organ,
Monolake,
Robert Görl,
The Sound,
Arcadia,
John Coltrane,
One Last Wish,
B.T. Express,
Aural Exciters,
Prince Buster,
John Holt,
The Saints,
Funky Four + One,
MC5,
Newcleus,
The Leaves,
The Human League,
the Swans,
Scientists,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Dave Gahan,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Motions,
Flash Fearless,
Inner City,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lightning Bolt,
Little Man,
Make Up,
Quadrant,
Surgeon,
DJ Sneak,
Eli Mardock,
Amon Düül,
Eric Dolphy,
Rotary Connection,
Roxy Music,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kurtis Blow,
The Velvet Underground,
Banda Bassotti,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Alarm Clocks,
James White and The Blacks,
Chris & Cosey,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.