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 Ukraine and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 synthesizer 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 Altered Images to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Radio Birdman,
Michelle Simonal,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Heaven 17,
Hardrive,
New Age Steppers,
The Fortunes,
Livin' Joy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dawn Penn,
Harmonia,
The Barracudas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Anthony Braxton,
Con Funk Shun,
Moebius,
The Flesh Eaters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bronski Beat,
Sound Behaviour,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Beau Brummels,
Minny Pops,
The Vogues,
Franke,
Joyce Sims,
The Knickerbockers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
MDC,
Frankie Knuckles,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vladislav Delay,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bauhaus,
Glenn Branca,
The Names,
Peter & Gordon,
Pierre Henry,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Davy DMX,
Barrington Levy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Doors,
Wolf Eyes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
T. Rex,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gichy Dan,
Mad Mike,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
La Düsseldorf,
Nik Kershaw,
Khruangbin,
Kayak,
Avey Tare,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camouflage,
Nas,
Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science, Crash Course in Science.
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.