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 Romania and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the güiro 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 Johnny Osbourne to the grunge 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Vainqueur record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Eric Copeland,
Sonny Sharrock,
Wire,
Whodini,
Grey Daturas,
Chris & Cosey,
Tubeway Army,
Joy Division,
Gichy Dan,
Pagans,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Erykah Badu,
the Normal,
Panda Bear,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Underground Resistance,
Depeche Mode,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nirvana,
Soul II Soul,
Wasted Youth,
Fela Kuti,
In Retrospect,
X-Ray Spex,
Pole,
Public Enemy,
Reagan Youth,
Mo-Dettes,
Mr. Review,
Technova,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Faust,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eve St. Jones,
Make Up,
Lou Reed,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Pop Group,
DJ Style,
Severed Heads,
John Cale,
Charles Mingus,
Newcleus,
The Birthday Party,
The Busters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Quadrant,
The Litter,
The Fall,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Cramps,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yellowson,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Yazoo,
OOIOO,
The Count Five,
Young Marble Giants,
Todd Terry,
Robert Hood,
Cymande,
Gang of Four,
The Dirtbombs,
Japan, Japan, Japan, Japan.
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.