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 Poland and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Altered Images to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Electric Prunes,
Nick Fraelich,
Marcia Griffiths,
John Coltrane,
Donald Byrd,
Drexciya,
The Invisible,
Theoretical Girls,
Chrome,
Motorama,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rites of Spring,
Ice-T,
Black Flag,
Alice Coltrane,
Babytalk,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Selecter,
Eric B and Rakim,
Althea and Donna,
Sister Nancy,
Black Bananas,
Barry Ungar,
Vladislav Delay,
Bauhaus,
Groovy Waters,
Mark Hollis,
Boredoms,
Crispian St. Peters,
Porter Ricks,
Tears for Fears,
Erasure,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
OOIOO,
Brass Construction,
The Skatalites,
Sällskapet,
Mr. Review,
Morten Harket,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Eric Copeland,
A Certain Ratio,
Joensuu 1685,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kerri Chandler,
Todd Terry,
Half Japanese,
The Dirtbombs,
CMW,
T. Rex,
Magazine,
Yusef Lateef,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Alarm Clocks,
Soul II Soul,
The New Christs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Mission of Burma,
Dennis Brown,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.