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 Madagascar and from Taipei.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Raincoats,
The Stooges,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Reagan Youth,
Fela Kuti,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Maleditus Sound,
Tubeway Army,
The Shadows of Knight,
New York Dolls,
Lucky Dragons,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nik Kershaw,
Radiohead,
Anakelly,
Mo-Dettes,
Rod Modell,
Sällskapet,
Youth Brigade,
The Alarm Clocks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rites of Spring,
Joensuu 1685,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Animal Collective,
Mark Hollis,
Stiv Bators,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lower 48,
Bauhaus,
Infiniti,
Amazonics,
Funkadelic,
The United States of America,
Todd Terry,
Howard Jones,
Ponytail,
Isaac Hayes,
Second Layer,
Sam Rivers,
Godley & Creme,
Danielle Patucci,
Franke,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare,
The Angels of Light,
Gichy Dan,
Brothers Johnson,
Malaria!,
Jandek,
The Fortunes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jerry's Kids,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Groovy Waters,
Sparks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Barracudas,
Y Pants,
Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef.
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.