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 Djibouti and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Don Cherry to the dance 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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Eric Dolphy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Skaos,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Martian,
Flash Fearless,
10cc,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Khruangbin,
Joey Negro,
The Selecter,
Ronnie Foster,
Fugazi,
Sight & Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Residents,
Sex Pistols,
The Divine Comedy,
Circle Jerks,
Depeche Mode,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Last Poets,
Monolake,
Rosa Yemen,
Lightning Bolt,
Radio Birdman,
Rapeman,
Tropical Tobacco,
Popol Vuh,
Soul Sonic Force,
ABBA,
The Blackbyrds,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Gap Band,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Marmalade,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Mummies,
Lalann,
The Durutti Column,
Tom Boy,
Newcleus,
Iggy Pop,
The Moleskins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Liliput,
The Pop Group,
Big Daddy Kane,
Yaz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roxy Music,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Byrd,
Magazine,
The Young Rascals,
Gang of Four,
Harpers Bizarre,
Erasure,
Ludus,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.