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 Mauritania and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 L. Decosne to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Michelle Simonal. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Flamin' Groovies,
R.M.O.,
John Lydon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Slave,
Rakim,
Henry Cow,
Ultra Naté,
Brand Nubian,
Sound Behaviour,
The Move,
Gerry Rafferty,
Black Bananas,
Rhythm & Sound,
Severed Heads,
La Düsseldorf,
Minny Pops,
Mars,
Iggy Pop,
Absolute Body Control,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Human League,
The Blackbyrds,
Warren Ellis,
Boredoms,
Q and Not U,
Pierre Henry,
Con Funk Shun,
Spandau Ballet,
Fat Boys,
New Order,
Joey Negro,
Young Marble Giants,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eli Mardock,
The Seeds,
Hot Snakes,
Neu!,
Alton Ellis,
Bauhaus,
the Germs,
Swell Maps,
Sonic Youth,
The Fugs,
Los Fastidios,
Hasil Adkins,
Unwound,
The Moody Blues,
Desert Stars,
CMW,
Dead Boys,
Brass Construction,
Anthony Braxton,
Robert Hood,
World's Most,
D'Angelo,
Tommy Roe,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lyres,
Tomorrow,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.