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 Peru and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes 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 Funkadelic to the punk 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All Kurtis Blow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Josef K record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Shuggie Otis,
Eddi Front,
Sister Nancy,
Davy DMX,
The Skatalites,
Swans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Smiths,
The Walker Brothers,
Goldenarms,
the Swans,
Harmonia,
John Lydon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Easy Going,
Amon Düül II,
Dorothy Ashby,
Howard Jones,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Mandrill,
Bang On A Can,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pussy Galore,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harpers Bizarre,
Animal Collective,
The United States of America,
Toni Rubio,
Carl Craig,
Mars,
The Litter,
New Age Steppers,
Intrusion,
Pulsallama,
Maurizio,
Black Pus,
Moebius,
The Durutti Column,
Sarah Menescal,
Hoover,
Theoretical Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Lalann,
Skarface,
Warsaw,
Soft Cell,
World's Most,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cheater Slicks,
Audionom,
Bobby Womack,
L. Decosne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bush Tetras,
Stiv Bators,
The Barracudas,
Deakin,
The Tremeloes,
Fatback Band,
Minutemen,
Barry Ungar,
Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk, Babytalk.
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.