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 Venezuela and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Todd Terry to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Drive Like Jehu. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
Janne Schatter,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cramps,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anthony Braxton,
Motorama,
The Cowsills,
Ralphi Rosario,
Amazonics,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mary Jane Girls,
DJ Style,
Dave Gahan,
KRS-One,
Vainqueur,
David Bowie,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Quadrant,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Evens,
Glenn Branca,
Interpol,
The Standells,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fire Engines,
Derrick Morgan,
Ten City,
Model 500,
Sight & Sound,
Maurizio,
Fat Boys,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tropical Tobacco,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fugs,
Inner City,
Chris & Cosey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pantytec,
The Golliwogs,
The Neon Judgement,
Pere Ubu,
Section 25,
Circle Jerks,
Jacob Miller,
Rakim,
Niagra,
Bluetip,
Albert Ayler,
a-ha,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Bourne,
The American Breed,
The Kinks,
Mission of Burma,
Funkadelic,
Slick Rick,
Gichy Dan,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.