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 Guinea-Bissau and from Woodstock.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 organ 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 Monks to the jazz 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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Darondo,
Jeff Mills,
Rakim,
The Moleskins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Depeche Mode,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
Pylon,
DJ Sneak,
Pet Shop Boys,
Susan Cadogan,
Sarah Menescal,
The Pop Group,
The Smiths,
Rod Modell,
Todd Terry,
The Blues Magoos,
Au Pairs,
The Evens,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Absolute Body Control,
Jandek,
Massinfluence,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tom Boy,
U.S. Maple,
Blossom Toes,
Brick,
Hardrive,
The Gun Club,
Livin' Joy,
Khruangbin,
ABBA,
Sam Rivers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Warren Ellis,
The Vogues,
Lee Hazlewood,
Donald Byrd,
Matthew Bourne,
Kas Product,
Zapp,
Pole,
Oblivians,
Yaz,
Sun Ra,
Black Moon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Los Fastidios,
Rites of Spring,
Wire,
The Gories,
Prince Buster,
Don Cherry,
Accadde A,
Minutemen,
Aural Exciters,
Monolake,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.