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 Guatemala and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 theremin 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 the Association to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Clear Light,
Johnny Osbourne,
Skarface,
Letta Mbulu,
The Moleskins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Metal Thangz,
Gerry Rafferty,
Hardrive,
The Barracudas,
ABC,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Alison Limerick,
Girls At Our Best!,
Section 25,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Moon,
Country Teasers,
Altered Images,
Interpol,
Gang Starr,
Funky Four + One,
Ken Boothe,
Throbbing Gristle,
Make Up,
David Axelrod,
Junior Murvin,
Zero Boys,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Severed Heads,
Gong,
Al Stewart,
Connie Case,
Icehouse,
Aswad,
the Normal,
Black Sheep,
Warsaw,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ralphi Rosario,
MDC,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bad Manners,
Avey Tare,
John Coltrane,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Flamin' Groovies,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Blake Baxter,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Radiohead,
Index,
Agent Orange,
The Neon Judgement,
Rufus Thomas,
Lindisfarne,
The Electric Prunes,
Crooked Eye,
Ronan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Shoche, Shoche, Shoche, Shoche.
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.