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 Denmark and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 808 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 Bootsy Collins to the rap 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 Slave. All the underground hits.
All Vainqueur tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Toasters,
Dark Day,
The Doobie Brothers,
Brand Nubian,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fugazi,
Vladislav Delay,
Liliput,
The Fire Engines,
Panda Bear,
Little Man,
Pharoah Sanders,
Wings,
Juan Atkins,
Monolake,
Eric Copeland,
Fela Kuti,
Aloha Tigers,
Dawn Penn,
Joyce Sims,
Hot Snakes,
The Cowsills,
B.T. Express,
Von Mondo,
The Index,
Brick,
Derrick Morgan,
Shoche,
Josef K,
Jeff Mills,
the Swans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Electric Prunes,
Joe Finger,
Metal Thangz,
China Crisis,
Wasted Youth,
The Angels of Light,
Outsiders,
Sam Rivers,
E-Dancer,
Moby Grape,
Warsaw,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Technova,
Babytalk,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Accadde A,
Chrome,
Crooked Eye,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Public Enemy,
Lou Christie,
Freddie Wadling,
Tom Boy,
Donald Byrd,
Mantronix,
Alphaville,
Gang Green,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.