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 United Kingdom and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Woodstock.
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 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 Kenny Larkin to the techno 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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Schoolly D tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joensuu 1685 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
Lee Hazlewood,
James White and The Blacks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sam Rivers,
Aswad,
The Alarm Clocks,
Urselle,
Yazoo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Human League,
The Grass Roots,
Eve St. Jones,
Fatback Band,
Scott Walker,
Alison Limerick,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Style,
Janne Schatter,
Alton Ellis,
L. Decosne,
Basic Channel,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Andrew Hill,
The Names,
Television Personalities,
The Cowsills,
Bang On A Can,
Faust,
The Remains,
Avey Tare,
Liliput,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sonny Sharrock,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Dead C,
Robert Wyatt,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Young Marble Giants,
Pierre Henry,
AZ,
Silicon Teens,
Minny Pops,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aloha Tigers,
Pantytec,
Sonic Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Brand Nubian,
Theoretical Girls,
Lou Reed,
Public Image Ltd.,
Fat Boys,
Half Japanese,
The Zeros,
Model 500,
MDC,
Bill Near,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.