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 Brunei and from Halifax.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Erasure to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Scan 7 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Goldenarms,
Drexciya,
Magma,
Stetsasonic,
Hashim,
Moby Grape,
The Doors,
The Slits,
The Selecter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mandrill,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Mills,
Con Funk Shun,
Pussy Galore,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Danielle Patucci,
Deadbeat,
Eric Copeland,
Spandau Ballet,
Rites of Spring,
June of 44,
Sex Pistols,
Camouflage,
The Trojans,
Neil Young,
Ossler,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Oblivians,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joe Finger,
The Modern Lovers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Colin Newman,
The Alarm Clocks,
Ludus,
The Blackbyrds,
The Last Poets,
Organ,
Radiohead,
The Music Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Barracudas,
Mo-Dettes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mr. Review,
Young Marble Giants,
Pagans,
Mary Jane Girls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Hoover,
Rakim,
The Residents,
Suicide,
DJ Style,
Faust,
Camberwell Now,
Scion,
The Toasters,
Susan Cadogan,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.