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 Germany and from Beijing.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Avey Tare to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Roy Ayers,
Janne Schatter,
E-Dancer,
Newcleus,
Donald Byrd,
Cecil Taylor,
Bob Dylan,
R.M.O.,
Flipper,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stereo Dub,
Minnie Riperton,
Supertramp,
The Remains,
Ornette Coleman,
John Coltrane,
Spandau Ballet,
The American Breed,
The Knickerbockers,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nirvana,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Joyce Sims,
Basic Channel,
Barclay James Harvest,
Tears for Fears,
Second Layer,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Babytalk,
Bobby Womack,
Adolescents,
Con Funk Shun,
Fatback Band,
the Germs,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Almond,
Half Japanese,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Vainqueur,
The Busters,
Subhumans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Los Fastidios,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Fad Gadget,
Rekid,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kenny Larkin,
Isaac Hayes,
The Wake,
48th St. Collective,
Robert Görl,
The Monochrome Set,
Von Mondo,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
Can,
Ken Boothe,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Henry Cow,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.