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 Paraguay and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Holger Czukay 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 Fatback Band to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Urselle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Y Pants,
8 Eyed Spy,
ABBA,
Blake Baxter,
Anakelly,
The Smoke,
The J.B.'s,
Todd Rundgren,
Wasted Youth,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Stooges,
Harry Pussy,
Pulsallama,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Jerry's Kids,
Nas,
The Fire Engines,
Juan Atkins,
Joe Smooth,
Massinfluence,
Qualms,
Fatback Band,
Skaos,
Ken Boothe,
Fluxion,
Skriet,
Jandek,
Absolute Body Control,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Cluster,
Toni Rubio,
Marine Girls,
Mantronix,
Rosa Yemen,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mr. Review,
Judy Mowatt,
Con Funk Shun,
Goldenarms,
Minutemen,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Drexciya,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brick,
Bush Tetras,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mars,
Stetsasonic,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Country Teasers,
Television Personalities,
Carl Craig,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-102,
Sarah Menescal,
Roxette,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.