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 Philippines and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Joe Smooth to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Zapp,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Faraquet,
Carl Craig,
Hardrive,
Yazoo,
Blossom Toes,
U.S. Maple,
Erykah Badu,
Piero Umiliani,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Symarip,
Tommy Roe,
Pagans,
The Cramps,
Jacob Miller,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jandek,
Yaz,
The Dave Clark Five,
Schoolly D,
Shuggie Otis,
Cecil Taylor,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Vainqueur,
the Fania All-Stars,
Idris Muhammad,
FM Einheit,
Blake Baxter,
Sight & Sound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Grey Daturas,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
Agent Orange,
Monks,
June of 44,
Urselle,
Janne Schatter,
Black Bananas,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Make Up,
Mo-Dettes,
F. McDonald,
Lou Reed,
Black Flag,
Sex Pistols,
the Germs,
Bobby Byrd,
The Offenders,
Intrusion,
Aural Exciters,
KRS-One,
Slick Rick,
Eve St. Jones,
Sixth Finger,
Pole,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.