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 Kyrgyzstan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Guru Guru to the rock 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kool Moe Dee,
Zero Boys,
Public Enemy,
Lalo Schifrin,
Delta 5,
The Fugs,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Black Pus,
Hasil Adkins,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Harpers Bizarre,
Popol Vuh,
Max Romeo,
John Holt,
The Gladiators,
The Barracudas,
One Last Wish,
Magma,
Oblivians,
Lyres,
UT,
The Moody Blues,
Shuggie Otis,
Pierre Henry,
Von Mondo,
Boz Scaggs,
Khruangbin,
The Invisible,
Bush Tetras,
Simply Red,
Gang Green,
Ten City,
D'Angelo,
Henry Cow,
Lungfish,
Ossler,
The Kinks,
Roger Hodgson,
Isaac Hayes,
Maurizio,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Severed Heads,
Subhumans,
Rakim,
Michelle Simonal,
La Düsseldorf,
Zapp,
Mad Mike,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Charles Mingus,
Mark Hollis,
The Detroit Cobras,
Camberwell Now,
Erykah Badu,
The Trojans,
Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill, Mandrill.
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.