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 Argentina and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 kango's stein massive to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Duran Duran record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eddi Front record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
David Axelrod,
The Gap Band,
Dawn Penn,
Eddi Front,
Barbara Tucker,
Frankie Knuckles,
Grey Daturas,
Dennis Brown,
Swans,
The Red Krayola,
Interpol,
Gang of Four,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Robert Hood,
Ituana,
Donald Byrd,
Darondo,
The Smiths,
Faust,
The Sonics,
K-Klass,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Colin Newman,
Eric Copeland,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Selecter,
the Sonics,
Desert Stars,
Yellowson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Dirtbombs,
John Holt,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Surgeon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Supertramp,
Roy Ayers,
The Grass Roots,
Amazonics,
Gichy Dan,
Funky Four + One,
Eden Ahbez,
Bobby Womack,
Kaleidoscope,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sex Pistols,
The Leaves,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Flipper,
Slave,
The Monochrome Set,
Alton Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Anthony Braxton,
R.M.O.,
Lyres,
DJ Sneak,
Skaos,
Fluxion,
Clear Light,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.