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 Kuwait and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz to the disco 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rites of Spring,
Magazine,
Johnny Clarke,
Wire,
Kurtis Blow,
Swans,
Electric Prunes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Babytalk,
Moby Grape,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Barry Ungar,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
In Retrospect,
Marvin Gaye,
Joyce Sims,
Lungfish,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Martian,
Alphaville,
Aswad,
Make Up,
Procol Harum,
Harmonia,
Sparks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ralphi Rosario,
Crispian St. Peters,
Outsiders,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pagans,
Mission of Burma,
Erykah Badu,
The Fugs,
Wally Richardson,
Urselle,
Harpers Bizarre,
Agitation Free,
The Mummies,
Yazoo,
Rod Modell,
The Gap Band,
Minutemen,
Black Pus,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gichy Dan,
The Sonics,
The Litter,
Matthew Halsall,
World's Most,
James White and The Blacks,
The Angels of Light,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gang of Four,
Ice-T,
Severed Heads,
Howard Jones,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.