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 Ethiopia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pere Ubu to the punk 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shoche record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Ituana,
Althea and Donna,
JFA,
Thompson Twins,
The Kinks,
H. Thieme,
The Zeros,
The Motions,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Starr,
The Real Kids,
Thee Headcoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cowsills,
Maurizio,
Alphaville,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
DJ Style,
New York Dolls,
T. Rex,
Bobby Womack,
New Order,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lalann,
Angry Samoans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Soft Cell,
Cymande,
Marvin Gaye,
Man Eating Sloth,
A Certain Ratio,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rhythm & Sound,
Make Up,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Interpol,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Pus,
Loose Ends,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Green,
Magazine,
Nas,
The Doobie Brothers,
Moby Grape,
The Last Poets,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eve St. Jones,
Sällskapet,
The Dirtbombs,
The Angels of Light,
Slave,
Scientists, Scientists, Scientists, Scientists.
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.