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 Chile and from Mumbai.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Subhumans to the crunk 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 Unrelated Segments. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arthur Verocai record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camouflage,
The Misunderstood,
Freddie Wadling,
Ken Boothe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Prince Buster,
Bill Near,
Kas Product,
B.T. Express,
The Fuzztones,
Radiohead,
Nico,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Frankie Knuckles,
Man Eating Sloth,
Fat Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bill Wells,
Junior Murvin,
LL Cool J,
Hot Snakes,
Thee Headcoats,
Black Sheep,
Cluster,
Bobby Womack,
Neu!,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fatback Band,
The Last Poets,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Vladislav Delay,
The Birthday Party,
Wasted Youth,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pagans,
Niagra,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Black Dice,
The Electric Prunes,
E-Dancer,
The Red Krayola,
H. Thieme,
Archie Shepp,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Kinks,
Outsiders,
Bobby Byrd,
Lightning Bolt,
Alice Coltrane,
Model 500,
K-Klass,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
Leonard Cohen,
The Leaves,
Iggy Pop,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
Kenny Larkin,
Bronski Beat,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Man Parrish,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.