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 Belgium and from Madrid.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and London.
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 snare 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
the Bar-Kays,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Fire Engines,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
Tropical Tobacco,
The New Christs,
Royal Trux,
Aural Exciters,
Index,
The Dead C,
Underground Resistance,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Junior Murvin,
Drexciya,
The Durutti Column,
The Litter,
Charles Mingus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
ABC,
The Buckinghams,
The Moleskins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kool Moe Dee,
Scratch Acid,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barry Ungar,
Bluetip,
Rapeman,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pussy Galore,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
Ultravox,
Monks,
Agent Orange,
The Fuzztones,
Organ,
Kenny Larkin,
R.M.O.,
Echospace,
Soft Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Pus,
The Happenings,
The Monks,
The Walker Brothers,
Lou Reed,
Niagra,
Can,
Joensuu 1685,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Interpol,
D'Angelo,
Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside, Lakeside.
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.