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 South Africa and from Delhi.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
The Leaves,
Robert Wyatt,
The Names,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
China Crisis,
Lyres,
Bobby Sherman,
Faust,
Symarip,
Gang Starr,
The Slits,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Idris Muhammad,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
The Tremeloes,
Half Japanese,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Grey Daturas,
Alton Ellis,
Pharoah Sanders,
U.S. Maple,
Connie Case,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Litter,
Terry Callier,
Make Up,
Ice-T,
Von Mondo,
Marmalade,
The Human League,
David Bowie,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radiopuhelimet,
Cluster,
The Blackbyrds,
Maurizio,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Soft Cell,
Aaron Thompson,
Warsaw,
Mantronix,
MDC,
Stiv Bators,
Ornette Coleman,
Deakin,
Eden Ahbez,
KRS-One,
Dark Day,
K-Klass,
Robert Hood,
Todd Rundgren,
David McCallum,
Minnie Riperton,
Byron Stingily,
Trumans Water,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crooked Eye,
Eve St. Jones,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tom Boy,
The Velvet Underground,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.