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 Korea South and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe 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 The Busters to the crunk 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Pierre Henry,
Terry Callier,
The Mojo Men,
Reuben Wilson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Con Funk Shun,
Warren Ellis,
Kaleidoscope,
Index,
Tomorrow,
Pantytec,
Second Layer,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Womack,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Yellowson,
The Toasters,
Swell Maps,
D'Angelo,
The Move,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gladiators,
Nation of Ulysses,
Hoover,
The Last Poets,
the Human League,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Victims,
Sound Behaviour,
The Electric Prunes,
Animal Collective,
Godley & Creme,
Drexciya,
Andrew Hill,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
Ossler,
Audionom,
a-ha,
Whodini,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Sonics,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jerry's Kids,
Nico,
The Sound,
Dead Boys,
MC5,
LL Cool J,
Easy Going,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Raincoats,
Smog,
Loose Ends,
Aloha Tigers,
Quadrant,
X-Ray Spex,
The Names,
Bill Wells,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.