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 Haiti and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Music Machine to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a L. Decosne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yusef Lateef,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Faust,
Juan Atkins,
Rekid,
Porter Ricks,
Susan Cadogan,
Eli Mardock,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blancmange,
New York Dolls,
Ultra Naté,
Dual Sessions,
The Golliwogs,
X-102,
Supertramp,
Tomorrow,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Trojans,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
Mission of Burma,
OOIOO,
Amon Düül II,
Eric B and Rakim,
Erykah Badu,
Liliput,
Los Fastidios,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
the Human League,
Sun Ra,
Youth Brigade,
Jeru the Damaja,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Cowsills,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun City Girls,
Fifty Foot Hose,
These Immortal Souls,
cv313,
Unrelated Segments,
Altered Images,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angry Samoans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Godley & Creme,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Model 500,
Minny Pops,
U.S. Maple,
Quando Quango,
Von Mondo,
Moby Grape,
Funky Four + One,
Alison Limerick,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.