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 Montenegro and from Delhi.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 F. McDonald to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Monolake,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cheater Slicks,
Bobby Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABC,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tears for Fears,
The Dirtbombs,
Tubeway Army,
Motorama,
Jerry's Kids,
Vladislav Delay,
In Retrospect,
Robert Wyatt,
Donald Byrd,
OOIOO,
Kurtis Blow,
Althea and Donna,
Public Enemy,
Nick Fraelich,
Dark Day,
The Dave Clark Five,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Oneida,
The Monochrome Set,
Roy Ayers,
Lou Christie,
Hoover,
Au Pairs,
Robert Hood,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
Dawn Penn,
Cybotron,
Talk Talk,
Wolf Eyes,
cv313,
Dennis Brown,
The Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nirvana,
Ultra Naté,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Newcleus,
June Days,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Peter & Gordon,
MDC,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Barracudas,
Sugar Minott,
Warsaw,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.