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 Papua New Guinea and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 grime 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Skatalites,
Wasted Youth,
Echospace,
June of 44,
Dark Day,
Scion,
Letta Mbulu,
Ten City,
Con Funk Shun,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
OOIOO,
Chris & Cosey,
Parry Music,
The Real Kids,
Monolake,
Pantaleimon,
Scrapy,
Bill Wells,
Minutemen,
Mr. Review,
The Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Country Teasers,
DJ Style,
Vladislav Delay,
Essential Logic,
Jandek,
the Germs,
The Mummies,
Gil Scott Heron,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
This Heat,
Sun Ra,
The Sonics,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Barry Ungar,
The Martian,
Cecil Taylor,
Angry Samoans,
the Normal,
Gabor Szabo,
Lower 48,
CMW,
David Bowie,
Soft Cell,
Graham Central Station,
Eve St. Jones,
Pylon,
MDC,
Albert Ayler,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pulsallama,
ABC,
Warsaw,
Joyce Sims,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pierre Henry,
Skaos,
The Stooges,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.