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 St Lucia and from Halifax.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Glambeats Corp. to the punk 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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soulsonic Force record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
Gang Green,
Bill Wells,
Tom Boy,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Barracudas,
Deepchord,
Japan,
The Last Poets,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
New York Dolls,
Television Personalities,
Fluxion,
June of 44,
Nirvana,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
Derrick May,
The Saints,
Barrington Levy,
UT,
China Crisis,
Zero Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Ornette Coleman,
Fatback Band,
Boredoms,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Moleskins,
Shoche,
Masters at Work,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Alice Coltrane,
The Monochrome Set,
Tres Demented,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Albert Ayler,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Raincoats,
Porter Ricks,
U.S. Maple,
Al Stewart,
Inner City,
Television,
Byron Stingily,
John Cale,
X-101,
Pantytec,
Max Romeo,
The Gun Club,
The Sound,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Neil Young,
Guru Guru,
Spoonie Gee,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.