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 Somalia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
The Skatalites,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pharoah Sanders,
Q and Not U,
Kerri Chandler,
LL Cool J,
Kurtis Blow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Reed,
Pylon,
Soul II Soul,
Barclay James Harvest,
Chrome,
China Crisis,
Prince Buster,
The Music Machine,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Marvin Gaye,
Michelle Simonal,
Crooked Eye,
Monks,
Pole,
John Holt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stereo Dub,
Inner City,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Human League,
Rod Modell,
Susan Cadogan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Essential Logic,
Stetsasonic,
Oblivians,
The Last Poets,
Andrew Hill,
Fad Gadget,
Hasil Adkins,
Howard Jones,
Marine Girls,
Swans,
Marmalade,
Blossom Toes,
Shoche,
New Age Steppers,
Infiniti,
Grey Daturas,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doobie Brothers,
Chris Corsano,
The Cure,
Excepter,
Outsiders,
F. McDonald,
Altered Images,
Fluxion,
Boredoms,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.