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 Pakistan and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the snare 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 The Move to the crunk 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dennis Brown,
Ultravox,
Brass Construction,
Ludus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Oblivians,
Sonic Youth,
Scott Walker,
The Fugs,
Sam Rivers,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cosmic Jokers,
David Axelrod,
The Invisible,
Schoolly D,
Mr. Review,
Alphaville,
Mars,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Derrick Morgan,
Funky Four + One,
Althea and Donna,
The Techniques,
Animal Collective,
Sexual Harrassment,
Minnie Riperton,
Sun City Girls,
Simply Red,
Sex Pistols,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Bar-Kays,
New Age Steppers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Arcadia,
The Names,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Das Ding,
June of 44,
Depeche Mode,
Brothers Johnson,
Unrelated Segments,
The Moleskins,
Toni Rubio,
Sugar Minott,
The Velvet Underground,
DJ Sneak,
The Electric Prunes,
Iggy Pop,
The Durutti Column,
Peter and Kerry,
The Leaves,
Fluxion,
Lightning Bolt,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Standells,
Intrusion,
Freddie Wadling,
Tim Buckley,
Pulsallama,
Laurel Aitken,
Eurythmics,
Boz Scaggs,
David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie, David Bowie.
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.