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 Indonesia and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Babytalk to the grunge 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 The Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Mandrill,
Reuben Wilson,
Harry Pussy,
Rod Modell,
T.S.O.L.,
Scratch Acid,
Gabor Szabo,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Negative Approach,
Second Layer,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Todd Terry,
Shuggie Otis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Peter & Gordon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cal Tjader,
The Skatalites,
Fugazi,
The Count Five,
The Red Krayola,
Scientists,
Rapeman,
Duran Duran,
Iggy Pop,
Grey Daturas,
Ken Boothe,
Dennis Brown,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Robert Görl,
Erykah Badu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lindisfarne,
Electric Prunes,
The Young Rascals,
UT,
Boz Scaggs,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Scrapy,
The Zeros,
Scott Walker,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Alison Limerick,
Wasted Youth,
Accadde A,
Wally Richardson,
Angry Samoans,
Barry Ungar,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Selecter,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.