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 Honduras and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the 808 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funkadelic,
Malaria!,
Don Cherry,
Kas Product,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faust,
The Standells,
The Fall,
Scientists,
Michelle Simonal,
Theoretical Girls,
Can,
X-102,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Youth Brigade,
The Move,
John Foxx,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
Sight & Sound,
Deadbeat,
Cecil Taylor,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Duran Duran,
Joey Negro,
Althea and Donna,
Pantytec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Adolescents,
This Heat,
Magazine,
Delta 5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crooked Eye,
Swans,
Sällskapet,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
The Smiths,
Ash Ra Tempel,
World's Most,
Zero Boys,
Surgeon,
Cluster,
Eli Mardock,
Amazonics,
Donald Byrd,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bang On A Can,
cv313,
Gang of Four,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ultra Naté,
Gichy Dan,
Darondo,
LL Cool J,
Leonard Cohen,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hardrive,
The Cowsills,
Arthur Verocai,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.