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 Iraq and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 The Young Rascals to the grunge 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
the Association,
Barbara Tucker,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Mills,
Henry Cow,
Yaz,
Newcleus,
Amon Düül II,
Sparks,
Altered Images,
T. Rex,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alice Coltrane,
Bluetip,
Moby Grape,
AZ,
The Shadows of Knight,
Robert Hood,
Audionom,
Magma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sonny Sharrock,
Minutemen,
Byron Stingily,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Magazine,
Jandek,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Minny Pops,
The Moody Blues,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shuggie Otis,
Black Sheep,
Fugazi,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Cymande,
Toni Rubio,
UT,
Mr. Review,
The Dead C,
Crispy Ambulance,
Talk Talk,
Whodini,
Siglo XX,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fall,
The Moleskins,
The Index,
Amon Düül,
The Mummies,
The Wake,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Black Pus,
Brass Construction,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lightning Bolt,
Hot Snakes,
Rapeman,
The Monks,
Gang Starr,
The Stooges,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.