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 Suriname and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 marimba 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bauhaus,
Fat Boys,
The Evens,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Johnny Osbourne,
Das Ding,
Eve St. Jones,
Scion,
Hardrive,
Radiopuhelimet,
Accadde A,
The Misunderstood,
La Düsseldorf,
The Selecter,
John Cale,
Gong,
Howard Jones,
CMW,
Mark Hollis,
Alton Ellis,
Robert Wyatt,
Lungfish,
Eric Copeland,
Ohio Players,
Gang Gang Dance,
Siglo XX,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Blossom Toes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Drexciya,
The Associates,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grauzone,
R.M.O.,
Youth Brigade,
Warsaw,
Bobby Womack,
The Invisible,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Fortunes,
Clear Light,
10cc,
Lightning Bolt,
Fear,
Panda Bear,
Morten Harket,
Nik Kershaw,
Dave Gahan,
Lou Christie,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gang Starr,
X-102,
Eric Dolphy,
Dead Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
Judy Mowatt,
Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim, Rhythim Is Rhythim.
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.