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 Turkey and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Fat Boys to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skaos,
Vladislav Delay,
Rufus Thomas,
The Electric Prunes,
Chris Corsano,
Terry Callier,
The Neon Judgement,
Bizarre Inc.,
Carl Craig,
Cymande,
Donny Hathaway,
The American Breed,
Little Man,
AZ,
Cameo,
Johnny Osbourne,
Yaz,
The Martian,
Soft Cell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Mark Hollis,
Intrusion,
Josef K,
Nas,
Silicon Teens,
Camouflage,
The Zeros,
Fear,
Lalann,
Panda Bear,
Malaria!,
Popol Vuh,
Index,
The Sonics,
Kayak,
Isaac Hayes,
Dark Day,
Y Pants,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kurtis Blow,
Nils Olav,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Stooges,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Pus,
Harmonia,
Ultimate Spinach,
Joyce Sims,
Frankie Knuckles,
Visage,
the Swans,
June of 44,
The Monks,
The Blues Magoos,
Warren Ellis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Basic Channel,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.