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 Argentina and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Angry Samoans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb 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 clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Circle Jerks,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
John Cale,
The Smoke,
the Association,
Throbbing Gristle,
Yazoo,
Bob Dylan,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang Green,
Minny Pops,
Pulsallama,
Ludus,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Simply Red,
Pantytec,
D'Angelo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Names,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bill Near,
The Slackers,
the Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
H. Thieme,
The Gap Band,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fugs,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Q and Not U,
Trumans Water,
Harry Pussy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Monks,
The Moleskins,
Blancmange,
Cecil Taylor,
Los Fastidios,
Mary Jane Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Schoolly D,
Radio Birdman,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Slits,
Rakim,
Arthur Verocai,
Sex Pistols,
Kayak,
Robert Görl,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Zapp,
Nik Kershaw,
Tommy Roe,
Ornette Coleman,
Sound Behaviour,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
CMW,
Juan Atkins,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.