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 Eritrea and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 synthesizer 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the electroclash 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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Babytalk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Q65,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
DJ Style,
Mr. Review,
Judy Mowatt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
JFA,
Lalo Schifrin,
Qualms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Cheater Slicks,
Thee Headcoats,
Sugar Minott,
Spandau Ballet,
Nik Kershaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Electric Prunes,
Clear Light,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Litter,
Wire,
Metal Thangz,
Scan 7,
Sällskapet,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pole,
The Zeros,
Josef K,
Vainqueur,
Panda Bear,
The Beau Brummels,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mojo Men,
The Modern Lovers,
Bootsy Collins,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Birthday Party,
New Order,
The Invisible,
Theoretical Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
Joy Division,
Moss Icon,
Jacob Miller,
Public Enemy,
Barrington Levy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Organ,
Harmonia,
Mantronix,
The Moleskins,
Motorama,
Tim Buckley,
Robert Wyatt,
The Associates,
The Black Dice,
Isaac Hayes,
Boz Scaggs,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.