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 Cape Verde 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
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 808 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 Carl Craig to the rock 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 The Litter. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Don Cherry,
Quando Quango,
The Barracudas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Michelle Simonal,
Heaven 17,
The Moleskins,
Roxy Music,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Selecter,
The Human League,
These Immortal Souls,
The Sonics,
Ornette Coleman,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aswad,
the Slits,
Grey Daturas,
Magazine,
The Kinks,
Patti Smith,
Severed Heads,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sonny Sharrock,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Monochrome Set,
Man Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Funkadelic,
Gang Green,
The Beau Brummels,
Glambeats Corp.,
Hot Snakes,
Erykah Badu,
Funky Four + One,
Dark Day,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Cell,
Interpol,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Martian,
Warren Ellis,
Derrick May,
Von Mondo,
Peter and Kerry,
Max Romeo,
Q65,
The Neon Judgement,
Harry Pussy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Adolescents,
X-101,
Skaos,
Reuben Wilson,
The Victims,
Y Pants,
Panda Bear,
Scan 7,
Crooked Eye,
Deadbeat,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.