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 Sudan and from Milan.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Maleditus Sound to the crunk 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stereo Dub,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Gabor Szabo,
Rites of Spring,
Bang On A Can,
Wings,
Funky Four + One,
Scratch Acid,
China Crisis,
Mad Mike,
John Holt,
Cheater Slicks,
the Sonics,
The Music Machine,
the Normal,
Yazoo,
Amon Düül,
Joyce Sims,
Tears for Fears,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Birthday Party,
John Lydon,
Bobby Byrd,
Stiv Bators,
Lou Reed,
Barbara Tucker,
The Evens,
Audionom,
Mandrill,
Oblivians,
Todd Terry,
Inner City,
Infiniti,
Skaos,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Monochrome Set,
Black Bananas,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
a-ha,
David McCallum,
Severed Heads,
The Buckinghams,
Harry Pussy,
Todd Rundgren,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Blues Magoos,
U.S. Maple,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sun City Girls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Saints,
Con Funk Shun,
The Motions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
H. Thieme,
Jacob Miller,
The Selecter,
Procol Harum,
Charles Mingus,
Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless, Flash Fearless.
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.