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 Malta and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the punk 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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Index,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Kas Product,
Gong,
the Slits,
Tim Buckley,
Pere Ubu,
David Bowie,
The Slackers,
Minnie Riperton,
Lightning Bolt,
Shuggie Otis,
Simply Red,
Smog,
The Fortunes,
Deepchord,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rotary Connection,
Ornette Coleman,
the Swans,
Stereo Dub,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang Green,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Fire Engines,
Marvin Gaye,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
cv313,
Pierre Henry,
Matthew Bourne,
Skarface,
Bad Manners,
The Golliwogs,
Funky Four + One,
John Cale,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scion,
Q and Not U,
Joy Division,
The Last Poets,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roger Hodgson,
The Birthday Party,
New Age Steppers,
June of 44,
Mark Hollis,
Arthur Verocai,
Angry Samoans,
China Crisis,
The Sound,
John Coltrane,
Joyce Sims,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kerri Chandler,
Max Romeo,
H. Thieme,
One Last Wish,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sällskapet,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.