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 Spain and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 Bologna and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 the Germs. All the underground hits.
All Radiohead tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Dorothy Ashby,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mark Hollis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Absolute Body Control,
One Last Wish,
Bauhaus,
The Count Five,
Joyce Sims,
Motorama,
OOIOO,
John Cale,
Henry Cow,
Popol Vuh,
Shoche,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric Copeland,
Derrick May,
The Move,
Piero Umiliani,
Ossler,
the Slits,
Bush Tetras,
Das Ding,
The Electric Prunes,
Mantronix,
AZ,
Wolf Eyes,
The Skatalites,
Jimmy McGriff,
Guru Guru,
Pylon,
Nico,
The Last Poets,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Lydon,
The Mojo Men,
Aaron Thompson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Real Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mummies,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Standells,
Chrome,
Kevin Saunderson,
Warsaw,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Bar-Kays,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
H. Thieme,
Audionom,
Lower 48,
Hardrive,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quantec,
Byron Stingily,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ohio Players,
Theoretical Girls,
The Fortunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lindisfarne,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.