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 Papua New Guinea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Brothers Johnson to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slackers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Model 500 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Negative Approach,
The Mummies,
The Tremeloes,
U.S. Maple,
Prince Buster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Blossom Toes,
Interpol,
Eric Copeland,
Nico,
Lou Christie,
Niagra,
Oneida,
Darondo,
Camouflage,
In Retrospect,
Cymande,
Reuben Wilson,
DJ Sneak,
Charles Mingus,
the Human League,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lebanon Hanover,
T.S.O.L.,
Minnie Riperton,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mad Mike,
Erykah Badu,
Ten City,
Sarah Menescal,
Metal Thangz,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gang of Four,
Alphaville,
Duran Duran,
The Dave Clark Five,
Popol Vuh,
The Young Rascals,
John Cale,
Lower 48,
Black Pus,
New Age Steppers,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Buckinghams,
The Modern Lovers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brand Nubian,
Yaz,
Erasure,
Young Marble Giants,
Scratch Acid,
Derrick Morgan,
The Kinks,
Skriet,
Mo-Dettes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funkadelic,
The Monks,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.