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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Banda Bassotti to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Sister Nancy. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Junior Murvin,
Danielle Patucci,
Ultravox,
Todd Rundgren,
Lyres,
Minnie Riperton,
Robert Wyatt,
Slick Rick,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Knickerbockers,
The Modern Lovers,
Arcadia,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
Echospace,
Rhythm & Sound,
Brand Nubian,
Fat Boys,
Shuggie Otis,
The Blackbyrds,
The Gladiators,
Dead Boys,
Oneida,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
OOIOO,
Delta 5,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Swell Maps,
Ten City,
Organ,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Angels of Light,
The Doors,
Severed Heads,
Drive Like Jehu,
Althea and Donna,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Duran Duran,
Jerry's Kids,
Johnny Clarke,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Blossom Toes,
Faraquet,
Alice Coltrane,
Funkadelic,
Aloha Tigers,
The Human League,
Gang Green,
Mo-Dettes,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans,
the Normal,
Monks,
Jesper Dahlback,
China Crisis,
Anakelly,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family.
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.