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 Ghana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donald Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Drexciya,
Bob Dylan,
Joensuu 1685,
Gil Scott Heron,
Supertramp,
Donald Byrd,
Tomorrow,
Rotary Connection,
Tres Demented,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Con Funk Shun,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Television,
Alison Limerick,
Half Japanese,
Desert Stars,
Mark Hollis,
Tears for Fears,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Bananas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barry Ungar,
Todd Terry,
Gichy Dan,
John Holt,
Crime,
The Count Five,
Bootsy Collins,
Pylon,
Minnie Riperton,
Radiopuhelimet,
Suicide,
Theoretical Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ice-T,
Q and Not U,
Cymande,
Kas Product,
Henry Cow,
CMW,
Janne Schatter,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Wings,
the Germs,
Kenny Larkin,
Roy Ayers,
Average White Band,
The J.B.'s,
Warren Ellis,
The Busters,
Roxette,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Organ,
The Monks,
Erasure,
The Grass Roots,
Shuggie Otis,
the Association,
Hardrive,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.