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 Eritrea and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 marimba 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the jazz 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 Flamin' Groovies. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Joensuu 1685,
the Association,
The Slackers,
Tom Boy,
the Fania All-Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Intrusion,
The Fortunes,
Fela Kuti,
The Alarm Clocks,
Accadde A,
Gang Starr,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Groovy Waters,
Minnie Riperton,
Bobby Womack,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New York Dolls,
Byron Stingily,
Bobby Sherman,
Supertramp,
Michelle Simonal,
The Electric Prunes,
Cal Tjader,
Schoolly D,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fatback Band,
Pussy Galore,
Rekid,
Aloha Tigers,
Ornette Coleman,
Moebius,
the Slits,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Loose Ends,
Robert Wyatt,
Crispian St. Peters,
Isaac Hayes,
Lebanon Hanover,
B.T. Express,
Au Pairs,
F. McDonald,
Massinfluence,
Crooked Eye,
Skriet,
Model 500,
Pantytec,
The Gladiators,
Motorama,
Suburban Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
Mark Hollis,
Nils Olav,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gang Green,
Little Man,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.