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 Uzbekistan and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 808 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blancmange 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Donny Hathaway,
Unrelated Segments,
Kerrie Biddell,
Kas Product,
Rufus Thomas,
Gichy Dan,
X-101,
Joe Smooth,
Rakim,
Sound Behaviour,
Livin' Joy,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
Organ,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fat Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Evens,
Zapp,
Eddi Front,
Crispian St. Peters,
This Heat,
Maleditus Sound,
Boz Scaggs,
Ten City,
David Axelrod,
Suburban Knight,
James White and The Blacks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Donald Byrd,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pierre Henry,
Danielle Patucci,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Motorama,
F. McDonald,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mission of Burma,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Mandrill,
Cal Tjader,
Fad Gadget,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Outsiders,
Barry Ungar,
Q65,
Quando Quango,
Fear,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Godley & Creme,
Prince Buster,
Underground Resistance,
Scratch Acid,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.