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 Lesotho and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 arpeggiator 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 The Grass Roots to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gang Starr,
The Gladiators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eden Ahbez,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Pus,
Mr. Review,
K-Klass,
Von Mondo,
Cluster,
Icehouse,
Jeff Lynne,
Josef K,
Urselle,
Eric B and Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
L. Decosne,
New Order,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fad Gadget,
Gichy Dan,
Pantaleimon,
Electric Prunes,
One Last Wish,
Neu!,
Procol Harum,
Kenny Larkin,
Robert Hood,
New York Dolls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Donald Byrd,
Animal Collective,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Byron Stingily,
DNA,
Khruangbin,
The Busters,
The Happenings,
Section 25,
La Düsseldorf,
Wings,
Reagan Youth,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobby Sherman,
X-101,
Deakin,
Vladislav Delay,
Royal Trux,
Dawn Penn,
John Cale,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Evens,
Maleditus Sound,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scientists,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Masters at Work,
The Leaves,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pierre Henry,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.