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 Ethiopia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator 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 The Skatalites to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 sitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Graham Central Station,
The American Breed,
John Coltrane,
Loose Ends,
Procol Harum,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fugazi,
Radiopuhelimet,
Livin' Joy,
The Pretty Things,
Aaron Thompson,
Hashim,
One Last Wish,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Wings,
Anakelly,
Jacques Brel,
Archie Shepp,
The Velvet Underground,
Jeff Mills,
PIL,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Underground Resistance,
Black Flag,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jerry's Kids,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Count Five,
New Age Steppers,
Piero Umiliani,
Inner City,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Section 25,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Sound,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joe Smooth,
Guru Guru,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed,
Half Japanese,
Crispian St. Peters,
Junior Murvin,
The Gun Club,
The Modern Lovers,
Supertramp,
Nas,
Joyce Sims,
The Slackers,
Theoretical Girls,
Max Romeo,
The Martian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Durutti Column,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.