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 Belarus and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Glambeats Corp. to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mummies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Moby Grape,
Neil Young,
David Bowie,
Nils Olav,
The Grass Roots,
Malaria!,
Sarah Menescal,
Surgeon,
Barbara Tucker,
Donald Byrd,
Goldenarms,
Mad Mike,
Negative Approach,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Deepchord,
Bob Dylan,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Black Dice,
Minnie Riperton,
Jerry's Kids,
The Associates,
The Slackers,
Con Funk Shun,
Scan 7,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Half Japanese,
Kool Moe Dee,
Barclay James Harvest,
Radio Birdman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABC,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Faust,
Maurizio,
Angry Samoans,
Wally Richardson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stereo Dub,
Deakin,
Unrelated Segments,
Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Reed,
Pole,
Magazine,
Vladislav Delay,
Crooked Eye,
The Remains,
K-Klass,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Grey Daturas,
The Pretty Things,
Deadbeat,
Soul Sonic Force,
Dave Gahan,
Agent Orange,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.