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 Seychelles and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 organ 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 B.T. Express to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Joensuu 1685 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
World's Most,
Excepter,
The Vogues,
Scion,
Cecil Taylor,
Charles Mingus,
Porter Ricks,
Slave,
Pantytec,
Sight & Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Aaron Thompson,
Fluxion,
Half Japanese,
Henry Cow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Boz Scaggs,
Erasure,
The Selecter,
Funkadelic,
cv313,
Black Moon,
Warren Ellis,
Ossler,
Jacques Brel,
Das Ding,
The Trojans,
Brand Nubian,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Gang Green,
Flipper,
Loose Ends,
Jandek,
Goldenarms,
Kool Moe Dee,
Liliput,
David McCallum,
Donny Hathaway,
Easy Going,
Niagra,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kayak,
Robert Görl,
Joey Negro,
The Young Rascals,
Lindisfarne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Lungfish,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Sherman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
Idris Muhammad,
Country Teasers,
The Mummies,
Sonic Youth,
Cameo,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.