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 Somalia and from Portland.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Barry Ungar to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Derrick Morgan,
F. McDonald,
EPMD,
The Dirtbombs,
Junior Murvin,
The Index,
Rekid,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantaleimon,
Black Moon,
Newcleus,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
DNA,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joy Division,
Crime,
Inner City,
X-Ray Spex,
Grey Daturas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rakim,
David Bowie,
Model 500,
La Düsseldorf,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fat Boys,
Neu!,
Aswad,
Sound Behaviour,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Severed Heads,
The Fuzztones,
Cluster,
The Blues Magoos,
Hardrive,
Warsaw,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Chris Corsano,
Los Fastidios,
Adolescents,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
H. Thieme,
Kevin Saunderson,
Vainqueur,
Pierre Henry,
Funky Four + One,
The Sound,
The Toasters,
Man Parrish,
Kaleidoscope,
Aaron Thompson,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Make Up,
Pere Ubu,
Lalann,
The Fire Engines,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fall, The Fall, The Fall, The Fall.
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.