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 Armenia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Donald Fagen 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Evens,
Glenn Branca,
The Durutti Column,
Porter Ricks,
Model 500,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Slits,
Ultra Naté,
Barrington Levy,
Arcadia,
David Bowie,
Wire,
Severed Heads,
Symarip,
Subhumans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Quadrant,
Con Funk Shun,
Silicon Teens,
Das Ding,
Drexciya,
Procol Harum,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Suburban Knight,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Moody Blues,
Pantaleimon,
The Gladiators,
Infiniti,
Black Moon,
The Invisible,
The United States of America,
Dark Day,
Shoche,
Motorama,
Neu!,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ken Boothe,
Spoonie Gee,
The Saints,
The Black Dice,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Leonard Cohen,
Godley & Creme,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Prunes,
Youth Brigade,
Niagra,
The Raincoats,
The Count Five,
Sight & Sound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron, Louis and Bebe Barron.
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.