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 Czech Republic and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Drexciya to the funk 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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Zapp,
The Monks,
Dennis Brown,
Parry Music,
The Kinks,
Camouflage,
Man Parrish,
The Move,
Neil Young,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bang On A Can,
New York Dolls,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eurythmics,
Aloha Tigers,
Leonard Cohen,
James White and The Blacks,
The Martian,
Mission of Burma,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dave Gahan,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Sheep,
Ponytail,
R.M.O.,
Q65,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Robert Wyatt,
Warsaw,
Main Source,
Gregory Isaacs,
Avey Tare,
Deadbeat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Newcleus,
Eddi Front,
Basic Channel,
Bobby Byrd,
Scan 7,
Crooked Eye,
New Age Steppers,
Henry Cow,
Kas Product,
Warren Ellis,
Gang Green,
Jeru the Damaja,
Trumans Water,
Ronan,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
Sun Ra,
K-Klass,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smiths,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Intrusion,
Grandmaster Flash,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.