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 Antigua and from Lille.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity to the funk 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 Jerry's Kids. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dave Clark Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Germs,
Ken Boothe,
Camouflage,
The Trojans,
Wally Richardson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hot Snakes,
the Human League,
X-Ray Spex,
F. McDonald,
Roy Ayers,
Eve St. Jones,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Motorama,
Warsaw,
Boredoms,
Erykah Badu,
The Residents,
Sixth Finger,
48th St. Collective,
Unwound,
Scion,
Moss Icon,
Danielle Patucci,
David Axelrod,
DNA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Black Dice,
Banda Bassotti,
Absolute Body Control,
Skaos,
The Move,
Rakim,
Minnie Riperton,
The Electric Prunes,
The Saints,
Donald Byrd,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Swans,
Faust,
Sam Rivers,
Ponytail,
Funky Four + One,
Kurtis Blow,
Niagra,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
June Days,
Das Ding,
Joe Smooth,
Main Source,
Lou Christie,
Cymande,
La Düsseldorf,
MDC,
Saccharine Trust,
Prince Buster,
Roxette,
Swell Maps,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.