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 Nigeria 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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 spring reverb 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 Carl Craig to the disco 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 Ralphi Rosario. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bauhaus,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Monks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Dirtbombs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Carl Craig,
Ludus,
Electric Prunes,
The Blackbyrds,
Camouflage,
Cecil Taylor,
The Raincoats,
Fugazi,
Jeff Mills,
Pagans,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pantaleimon,
Sugar Minott,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wasted Youth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Mandrill,
Howard Jones,
Rites of Spring,
One Last Wish,
Surgeon,
Yaz,
Michelle Simonal,
The Slits,
Audionom,
Radio Birdman,
Siglo XX,
James White and The Blacks,
Gang of Four,
Absolute Body Control,
DNA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Cymande,
Kool Moe Dee,
Byron Stingily,
Nik Kershaw,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Womack,
Delon & Dalcan,
Visage,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Alison Limerick,
La Düsseldorf,
Steve Hackett,
The Cramps,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Traffic Nightmare,
The New Christs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joyce Sims,
Lindisfarne,
Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani, Piero Umiliani.
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.