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 Bolivia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Yusef Lateef to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Kevin Saunderson,
Joyce Sims,
Blake Baxter,
Fad Gadget,
Scientists,
Chris & Cosey,
Sarah Menescal,
Stereo Dub,
Inner City,
Aswad,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
the Germs,
8 Eyed Spy,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott Heron,
Anthony Braxton,
Erykah Badu,
Silicon Teens,
Crime,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Brothers Johnson,
Camouflage,
Porter Ricks,
Gastr Del Sol,
DJ Sneak,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Black Dice,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radio Birdman,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joensuu 1685,
The Smiths,
Joe Smooth,
Ken Boothe,
ABC,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Derrick Morgan,
The Smoke,
Dead Boys,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
H. Thieme,
Pole,
Radiohead,
X-102,
Con Funk Shun,
The Red Krayola,
Bluetip,
Cameo,
Mad Mike,
Average White Band,
Arab on Radar,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Cowsills,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
Mission of Burma,
cv313,
the Soft Cell,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.