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 Mali and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Delon & Dalcan 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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
Camouflage,
Eddi Front,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
Maurizio,
Scan 7,
The Dead C,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lightning Bolt,
Das Ding,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bizarre Inc.,
Parry Music,
The Skatalites,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Birthday Party,
The New Christs,
The Tremeloes,
Nico,
The Slackers,
June Days,
Rapeman,
Y Pants,
Alton Ellis,
Blossom Toes,
Toni Rubio,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
New York Dolls,
Icehouse,
Bush Tetras,
The Pretty Things,
Max Romeo,
MDC,
Warsaw,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q and Not U,
The Music Machine,
Wasted Youth,
Slave,
Ultravox,
Black Moon,
Scrapy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Red Krayola,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gong,
Man Eating Sloth,
Donny Hathaway,
Deadbeat,
Porter Ricks,
Moss Icon,
Model 500,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
La Düsseldorf,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Donald Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Electric Prunes,
Camberwell Now,
The Five Americans,
The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five, The Count Five.
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.