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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 arpeggiator 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 Todd Terry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Quantec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Happenings,
Judy Mowatt,
Echospace,
New Age Steppers,
The Remains,
Brothers Johnson,
Minny Pops,
The Smoke,
Kaleidoscope,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Black Dice,
Bobby Byrd,
Bill Near,
Tropical Tobacco,
Livin' Joy,
Matthew Bourne,
Oneida,
the Slits,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Agent Orange,
Minutemen,
Isaac Hayes,
The Blackbyrds,
Tim Buckley,
Scan 7,
Maurizio,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Standells,
The Gladiators,
Sam Rivers,
Hoover,
The Zeros,
Lakeside,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gong,
Qualms,
Hardrive,
Soul Sonic Force,
One Last Wish,
Rekid,
Hot Snakes,
Steve Hackett,
Talk Talk,
Siglo XX,
Fort Wilson Riot,
CMW,
Sonic Youth,
Maleditus Sound,
The Slits,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
Cluster,
Don Cherry,
Terry Callier,
Mantronix,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nas,
The Gun Club,
Andrew Hill,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.