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 Angola and from Bremen.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the rap 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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All These Immortal Souls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Traffic Nightmare,
Wings,
Henry Cow,
X-Ray Spex,
Big Daddy Kane,
Symarip,
Royal Trux,
the Association,
Swans,
Pulsallama,
The Beau Brummels,
Sister Nancy,
Yellowson,
Jandek,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Section 25,
Eddi Front,
The Toasters,
Todd Terry,
The Fortunes,
Surgeon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Idris Muhammad,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Frankie Knuckles,
David Bowie,
Pussy Galore,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Knickerbockers,
Max Romeo,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Drexciya,
Aural Exciters,
The Tremeloes,
Anthony Braxton,
Judy Mowatt,
June Days,
the Human League,
Liliput,
La Düsseldorf,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Supertramp,
Rakim,
Tommy Roe,
Erykah Badu,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grauzone,
Vladislav Delay,
Cal Tjader,
Young Marble Giants,
X-101,
Sound Behaviour,
Boredoms,
Tom Boy,
Quantec,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.