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 Singapore and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 808 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 Derrick May to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ralphi Rosario,
Masters at Work,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pantaleimon,
Patti Smith,
The Buckinghams,
Donald Byrd,
The Gladiators,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Neon Judgement,
Gichy Dan,
Chris & Cosey,
AZ,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kaleidoscope,
Letta Mbulu,
Moss Icon,
Cal Tjader,
The Human League,
Brick,
Urselle,
Fela Kuti,
Bush Tetras,
The Litter,
Deakin,
John Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Victims,
Funky Four + One,
Connie Case,
Depeche Mode,
Minnie Riperton,
Stiv Bators,
Rosa Yemen,
Joe Finger,
The Seeds,
The Stooges,
June of 44,
John Lydon,
Sight & Sound,
Essential Logic,
Bizarre Inc.,
Wasted Youth,
Gabor Szabo,
Cecil Taylor,
Big Daddy Kane,
Babytalk,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Scratch Acid,
Rites of Spring,
Sixth Finger,
Sparks,
Rekid,
K-Klass,
X-101,
Model 500,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kerri Chandler,
Massinfluence,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.