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 Tajikistan and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Stetsasonic to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Sister Nancy,
Brand Nubian,
Pierre Henry,
Royal Trux,
Brothers Johnson,
Cymande,
Livin' Joy,
Boz Scaggs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Misunderstood,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Deepchord,
Barrington Levy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thompson Twins,
Lower 48,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Newcleus,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Count Five,
Wolf Eyes,
David Bowie,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Soft Machine,
Max Romeo,
Circle Jerks,
Quantec,
The Toasters,
Bobby Byrd,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Graham Central Station,
Babytalk,
Cybotron,
The Dead C,
Hashim,
Icehouse,
UT,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Jandek,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Warsaw,
Andrew Hill,
Jeff Lynne,
Clear Light,
Iggy Pop,
Fluxion,
Amon Düül,
Sandy B,
Bobby Sherman,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mummies,
Arthur Verocai,
Joensuu 1685,
Ultimate Spinach,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
Model 500, Model 500, Model 500, Model 500.
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.