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 Sri Lanka and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Isaac Hayes to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 a-ha. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chris & Cosey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Arcadia,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gang Gang Dance,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Remains,
Pole,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Techniques,
LL Cool J,
Rakim,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Wake,
The Fuzztones,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
DNA,
Rapeman,
Average White Band,
Janne Schatter,
Darondo,
Inner City,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ice-T,
Massinfluence,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kenny Larkin,
Unrelated Segments,
The Count Five,
Flash Fearless,
Excepter,
Sight & Sound,
Byron Stingily,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Country Teasers,
Vladislav Delay,
Harry Pussy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Music Machine,
Kool Moe Dee,
Reagan Youth,
Black Pus,
Public Enemy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fugs,
Bobby Sherman,
The Mummies,
R.M.O.,
Tommy Roe,
Eve St. Jones,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gong,
The J.B.'s,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Silicon Teens,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.