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 Rwanda and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 David Bowie 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 Smog to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Malaria! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Boogie Down Productions,
Cameo,
Barry Ungar,
Ultravox,
The Velvet Underground,
Young Marble Giants,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Sherman,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Severed Heads,
The Mojo Men,
World's Most,
Yazoo,
The Happenings,
Zapp,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minutemen,
Marvin Gaye,
Jandek,
Gil Scott Heron,
Rod Modell,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
CMW,
Unrelated Segments,
D'Angelo,
Arab on Radar,
The Cramps,
Saccharine Trust,
The Gun Club,
Nils Olav,
Visage,
Stereo Dub,
Blossom Toes,
Popol Vuh,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Index,
Byron Stingily,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sound Behaviour,
a-ha,
Suburban Knight,
Black Bananas,
The Blackbyrds,
Sparks,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fugazi,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Excepter,
Bootsy Collins,
Mantronix,
The Pretty Things,
Freddie Wadling,
Von Mondo,
Joy Division,
Icehouse,
Brick,
The Move,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Music Machine,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.