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 St Kitts & Nevis and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth to the punk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monolake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Outsiders,
Camberwell Now,
Fluxion,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Sonics,
The Index,
Wasted Youth,
Erasure,
Ronan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Colin Newman,
Letta Mbulu,
Severed Heads,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Althea and Donna,
The Slackers,
Soft Cell,
Amazonics,
Q65,
Anakelly,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Remains,
Bush Tetras,
Parry Music,
Aloha Tigers,
Average White Band,
Marine Girls,
Vainqueur,
Funkadelic,
David Bowie,
Mandrill,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Glenn Branca,
the Association,
Porter Ricks,
Pantaleimon,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra,
Donald Byrd,
Sonny Sharrock,
Make Up,
Peter & Gordon,
Masters at Work,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Model 500,
Malaria!,
The Stooges,
Terrestrial Tones,
This Heat,
Eric Copeland,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Gun Club,
Quadrant,
Mantronix,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Toni Rubio,
Dead Boys,
Fugazi,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang Green,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.