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 Namibia and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Man Eating Sloth to the funk 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Don Cherry,
The Black Dice,
Silicon Teens,
Ultra Naté,
Carl Craig,
Metal Thangz,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bush Tetras,
The Smoke,
Black Bananas,
The Beau Brummels,
Royal Trux,
Essential Logic,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Fugs,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Misunderstood,
Mr. Review,
Minutemen,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Nick Fraelich,
the Soft Cell,
Motorama,
Mantronix,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Gun Club,
The Happenings,
The Skatalites,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yusef Lateef,
Interpol,
Yaz,
Accadde A,
Todd Terry,
Kurtis Blow,
Janne Schatter,
Hoover,
Drexciya,
Blake Baxter,
Swans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aswad,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tears for Fears,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Gories,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Wyatt,
Audionom,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Kerri Chandler,
Gang Gang Dance,
Soulsonic Force,
Joyce Sims,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
CMW,
Freddie Wadling,
Marvin Gaye,
Crime,
Neil Young,
Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer, Second Layer.
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.