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 Tonga and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
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 organ 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rap 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All Whodini tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brick,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Iggy Pop,
Crime,
Soulsonic Force,
The Barracudas,
The Buckinghams,
Monolake,
Wire,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Blackbyrds,
Das Ding,
EPMD,
Arab on Radar,
One Last Wish,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eve St. Jones,
Thompson Twins,
Stereo Dub,
Porter Ricks,
Ponytail,
The Slackers,
Faraquet,
Rites of Spring,
Zapp,
Johnny Clarke,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Doobie Brothers,
PIL,
Al Stewart,
Minnie Riperton,
Dual Sessions,
The Last Poets,
Dennis Brown,
Groovy Waters,
Swans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Angry Samoans,
Danielle Patucci,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Litter,
Gichy Dan,
John Coltrane,
Pulsallama,
Anthony Braxton,
The Raincoats,
the Association,
Yusef Lateef,
The Seeds,
World's Most,
Eurythmics,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marine Girls,
Masters at Work,
Public Enemy,
The Pretty Things,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sonny Sharrock,
Desert Stars,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.