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 Qatar and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Portland.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 June Days to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Spandau Ballet,
X-Ray Spex,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Infiniti,
Suburban Knight,
Pylon,
Mantronix,
Sonic Youth,
Brass Construction,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fugazi,
Pere Ubu,
Jerry's Kids,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Roger Hodgson,
The Count Five,
The Doors,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Faraquet,
Scrapy,
Susan Cadogan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harry Pussy,
Barry Ungar,
Ludus,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
World's Most,
Public Image Ltd.,
These Immortal Souls,
Rod Modell,
Fluxion,
Fela Kuti,
The Moody Blues,
Sex Pistols,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Los Fastidios,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yazoo,
New Order,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Radiohead,
The Flesh Eaters,
Motorama,
Rotary Connection,
Visage,
David Bowie,
Reagan Youth,
Audionom,
Crispy Ambulance,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Metal Thangz,
Henry Cow,
Magazine,
Anthony Braxton,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tubeway Army,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lou Reed,
Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities, Television Personalities.
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.