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 Bahrain and from Delhi.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 A Certain Ratio to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Pretty Things,
In Retrospect,
Sonny Sharrock,
Accadde A,
June Days,
Graham Central Station,
the Normal,
Rapeman,
Amazonics,
Charles Mingus,
Hashim,
Carl Craig,
Magazine,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Roger Hodgson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
R.M.O.,
Pagans,
The Residents,
The Selecter,
Lalann,
Ronan,
Procol Harum,
Oneida,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dave Gahan,
Barry Ungar,
LL Cool J,
The Black Dice,
Underground Resistance,
Aural Exciters,
Excepter,
Silicon Teens,
Brand Nubian,
Schoolly D,
Anakelly,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Essential Logic,
Suicide,
Derrick Morgan,
Gabor Szabo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Pop Group,
Girls At Our Best!,
Max Romeo,
Duran Duran,
Wire,
the Soft Cell,
Drive Like Jehu,
Alison Limerick,
MDC,
The Last Poets,
Parry Music,
Crash Course in Science,
Subhumans,
The United States of America,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme, Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme.
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.