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 Tunisia and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 48th St. Collective to the grime 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Mills 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Prince Buster,
Surgeon,
Blake Baxter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ornette Coleman,
Marvin Gaye,
Cluster,
Bluetip,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeff Mills,
Zapp,
Dead Boys,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Skaos,
Adolescents,
Lucky Dragons,
Flash Fearless,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wally Richardson,
Scientists,
The Litter,
Stiv Bators,
The Mummies,
La Düsseldorf,
Eric Dolphy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Alton Ellis,
Lakeside,
John Holt,
The Gun Club,
The Dead C,
Hashim,
Maurizio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Zeros,
The Buckinghams,
The Toasters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fatback Band,
Oblivians,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Beau Brummels,
Pierre Henry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tim Buckley,
The Moleskins,
Aaron Thompson,
Chris & Cosey,
Essential Logic,
Tres Demented,
Brass Construction,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Angels of Light,
Freddie Wadling,
New York Dolls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
kango's stein massive,
Mantronix,
Ronnie Foster,
The Cure,
Quadrant,
Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses, Nation of Ulysses.
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.