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 Egypt and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 spring reverb 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 John Coltrane to the crunk 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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
The Moleskins,
Faraquet,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
Reagan Youth,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Divine Comedy,
Masters at Work,
The Mojo Men,
Sexual Harrassment,
Fugazi,
Animal Collective,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
E-Dancer,
Crooked Eye,
Skaos,
Patti Smith,
The Sound,
The Associates,
Amon Düül II,
The Fugs,
Graham Central Station,
Fela Kuti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Aural Exciters,
Sarah Menescal,
Wolf Eyes,
Agitation Free,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lucky Dragons,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Reuben Wilson,
Brand Nubian,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Icehouse,
The Techniques,
Scrapy,
Eric Copeland,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ice-T,
Arab on Radar,
Con Funk Shun,
Angry Samoans,
Rufus Thomas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Carl Craig,
Cymande,
Agent Orange,
Alison Limerick,
the Bar-Kays,
D'Angelo,
Black Bananas,
The Skatalites,
Robert Hood,
Ultra Naté,
Swans,
Boogie Down Productions,
Deepchord,
The Dirtbombs,
Harry Pussy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.