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 Mongolia and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Agent Orange to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mojo Men,
T. Rex,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Zeros,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Association,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Starr,
The Pretty Things,
The Gun Club,
Nils Olav,
The Star Department,
Darondo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gang of Four,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Music Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Monochrome Set,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
Yaz,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marine Girls,
Sugar Minott,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick May,
Massinfluence,
U.S. Maple,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Saccharine Trust,
Underground Resistance,
Wings,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Buzzcocks,
Procol Harum,
DNA,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jeff Mills,
The Barracudas,
Lalann,
H. Thieme,
Dennis Brown,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
David Axelrod,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Fuzztones,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Victims,
Eli Mardock,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Spoonie Gee,
Kevin Saunderson,
Half Japanese,
Bobby Womack,
Rites of Spring,
Wasted Youth,
Grandmaster Flash,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.