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 Fiji and from Woodstock.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Nas to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Five Americans,
Lyres,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sex Pistols,
The New Christs,
The Sound,
Buzzcocks,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fire Engines,
Rhythm & Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
Public Image Ltd.,
Young Marble Giants,
Jimmy McGriff,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Malaria!,
Mars,
Eden Ahbez,
Joensuu 1685,
Siglo XX,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rites of Spring,
Reuben Wilson,
World's Most,
The United States of America,
The Dead C,
Mo-Dettes,
the Bar-Kays,
The Music Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lakeside,
The Fuzztones,
Skarface,
Basic Channel,
Kaleidoscope,
Cymande,
Sam Rivers,
Max Romeo,
Sparks,
Pulsallama,
Amazonics,
Newcleus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pere Ubu,
Blossom Toes,
Magma,
Grey Daturas,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Pop Group,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Electric Prunes,
Maurizio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cybotron,
Neu!,
Toni Rubio,
Matthew Bourne,
Panda Bear,
Organ,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.