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 Serbia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Tom Boy to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ash Ra Tempel,
Quantec,
Kaleidoscope,
The Golliwogs,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Althea and Donna,
The Pretty Things,
Urselle,
Blake Baxter,
Boz Scaggs,
Roger Hodgson,
Boogie Down Productions,
Joy Division,
Ken Boothe,
Alphaville,
Arthur Verocai,
The Last Poets,
Kayak,
Scion,
Pussy Galore,
World's Most,
Brand Nubian,
Cameo,
EPMD,
Massinfluence,
Banda Bassotti,
Alton Ellis,
Monks,
Radio Birdman,
Arab on Radar,
U.S. Maple,
Joyce Sims,
Ronnie Foster,
Grey Daturas,
Morten Harket,
Ohio Players,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Donald Byrd,
Carl Craig,
Surgeon,
Section 25,
Eric Copeland,
the Slits,
Radiohead,
The Young Rascals,
The American Breed,
the Association,
Johnny Osbourne,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roxette,
Joe Smooth,
Crispian St. Peters,
David McCallum,
Nick Fraelich,
Roy Ayers,
Pulsallama,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Trumans Water,
The Names,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.