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 Indonesia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Madrid.
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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eric Dolphy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Absolute Body Control record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aaron Thompson,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vainqueur,
Bill Near,
Tears for Fears,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Velvet Underground,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Stereo Dub,
The New Christs,
Mars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Star Department,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
World's Most,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
K-Klass,
Masters at Work,
Animal Collective,
Half Japanese,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Max Romeo,
Yusef Lateef,
Icehouse,
The United States of America,
Buzzcocks,
Johnny Clarke,
Isaac Hayes,
The Last Poets,
The Trojans,
Vladislav Delay,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Procol Harum,
Slick Rick,
F. McDonald,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
Yazoo,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minny Pops,
Byron Stingily,
Fad Gadget,
Crooked Eye,
Flash Fearless,
Main Source,
Inner City,
The Selecter,
DNA,
Tom Boy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Whodini,
Black Pus,
The Pretty Things,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
June Days,
the Sonics,
Rufus Thomas,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.