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 Madagascar and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Ronnie Foster to the rock 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All The Beau Brummels tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Terrestrial Tones,
Slick Rick,
The Fortunes,
Grey Daturas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
E-Dancer,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Desert Stars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
PIL,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Görl,
Excepter,
Fela Kuti,
DJ Style,
Don Cherry,
LL Cool J,
The Associates,
The Searchers,
Newcleus,
The Cramps,
Skaos,
Eurythmics,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Erykah Badu,
Heaven 17,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cheater Slicks,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fat Boys,
The Move,
Roxette,
DNA,
The Motions,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Archie Shepp,
Isaac Hayes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare,
Bobby Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crime,
Pierre Henry,
Radio Birdman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Idris Muhammad,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
Scan 7,
Blake Baxter,
Symarip,
Q and Not U,
Nico,
Schoolly D,
Radiohead,
Lee Hazlewood,
Severed Heads,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Buckinghams,
Sound Behaviour,
Maurizio,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.