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 Belize and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Bang On A Can to the crunk 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Clear Light,
Brothers Johnson,
Carl Craig,
Index,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Slits,
Lucky Dragons,
Cheater Slicks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stiv Bators,
Anthony Braxton,
Bauhaus,
Robert Wyatt,
Massinfluence,
Yusef Lateef,
Soul II Soul,
the Association,
Archie Shepp,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fad Gadget,
FM Einheit,
The Cure,
Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Von Mondo,
Spandau Ballet,
The Trojans,
Chrome,
The Mummies,
Gichy Dan,
Niagra,
The Five Americans,
Rotary Connection,
Scrapy,
JFA,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joe Finger,
The Walker Brothers,
Donald Byrd,
Das Ding,
Joy Division,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Au Pairs,
Kerri Chandler,
The Durutti Column,
Ohio Players,
The Fuzztones,
Ice-T,
Sight & Sound,
The New Christs,
Kas Product,
Eden Ahbez,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Grey Daturas,
Eli Mardock,
Kaleidoscope,
David Bowie,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.