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 Liberia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ralphi Rosario to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Selecter 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Sonics,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sex Pistols,
Youth Brigade,
The New Christs,
The Mummies,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
10cc,
Donald Byrd,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moebius,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bush Tetras,
Gang Starr,
Spoonie Gee,
Niagra,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Electric Prunes,
This Heat,
The Kinks,
Bobby Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Blake Baxter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Michelle Simonal,
Pulsallama,
The Mojo Men,
Malaria!,
Dave Gahan,
Adolescents,
Derrick Morgan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones,
The Fall,
Barbara Tucker,
Quantec,
X-102,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonic Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
8 Eyed Spy,
Clear Light,
Wire,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fela Kuti,
Bronski Beat,
Colin Newman,
Alton Ellis,
The Barracudas,
Roxy Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Wolf Eyes,
Gang Green,
Buzzcocks,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.