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 Burkina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Japan to the techno 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Mills,
Dark Day,
Neil Young,
The Litter,
Arcadia,
Mr. Review,
Desert Stars,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
June Days,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Byrd,
Heaven 17,
The Music Machine,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Derrick Morgan,
Television Personalities,
AZ,
The Names,
Guru Guru,
The Monochrome Set,
Bobby Womack,
David Bowie,
Minnie Riperton,
Chris & Cosey,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
Idris Muhammad,
The Beau Brummels,
The Mojo Men,
Oneida,
Basic Channel,
48th St. Collective,
Average White Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lou Reed,
The Walker Brothers,
Vainqueur,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dave Gahan,
Cal Tjader,
Boz Scaggs,
Gang of Four,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eurythmics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Charles Mingus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Dawn Penn,
Royal Trux,
The Durutti Column,
Public Image Ltd.,
Severed Heads,
Half Japanese,
The Neon Judgement,
Vladislav Delay,
Skriet,
Minny Pops,
Scientists,
Adolescents,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.