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 East Timor and from Shanghai.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rock 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kerri Chandler 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?
The Sound,
Urselle,
Anakelly,
Sun Ra,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry's Kids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lalann,
Deadbeat,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Darondo,
The Offenders,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Minny Pops,
The Happenings,
Rod Modell,
Hot Snakes,
Cal Tjader,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sixth Finger,
Lower 48,
The Vogues,
The New Christs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Slave,
Harry Pussy,
Royal Trux,
Gang of Four,
The Fortunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash,
Shuggie Otis,
The Leaves,
Eve St. Jones,
Kool Moe Dee,
Monolake,
Bronski Beat,
Gil Scott Heron,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Donald Byrd,
Agent Orange,
Newcleus,
B.T. Express,
Junior Murvin,
Dual Sessions,
The Wake,
The Blues Magoos,
Goldenarms,
The Divine Comedy,
Pere Ubu,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Cell,
Little Man,
10cc,
Gong,
Skriet,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.