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 Swaziland and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Silicon Teens to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Fear,
Sun City Girls,
Moebius,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alphaville,
Lucky Dragons,
Wasted Youth,
Mr. Review,
Circle Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Infiniti,
Bill Near,
The Divine Comedy,
Scrapy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
James White and The Blacks,
Ronan,
Agitation Free,
Alton Ellis,
Prince Buster,
T. Rex,
Siglo XX,
Marshall Jefferson,
X-102,
June of 44,
Little Man,
The Gun Club,
Urselle,
The Golliwogs,
The Count Five,
Chrome,
Country Teasers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brand Nubian,
The Techniques,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Kerri Chandler,
X-101,
The Grass Roots,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dawn Penn,
Livin' Joy,
Nik Kershaw,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ossler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Remains,
Popol Vuh,
The Stooges,
Albert Ayler,
Lakeside,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger,
Sarah Menescal,
Angry Samoans,
Rotary Connection,
Amon Düül,
Gang of Four,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.