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 Mongolia and from Calgary.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Saccharine Trust to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Slits record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
The Human League,
Oneida,
The Pretty Things,
Outsiders,
The Real Kids,
The Move,
Black Flag,
the Fania All-Stars,
Japan,
Freddie Wadling,
Pulsallama,
Dave Gahan,
Boredoms,
ABC,
Youth Brigade,
The Divine Comedy,
Davy DMX,
Black Moon,
David McCallum,
Index,
Inner City,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ohio Players,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Lebanon Hanover,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Basic Channel,
Ultra Naté,
Marmalade,
The Dave Clark Five,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Womack,
Franke,
X-101,
Pantaleimon,
Camouflage,
The Standells,
Alice Coltrane,
Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Curtis Mayfield,
Patti Smith,
Scan 7,
Gong,
Aural Exciters,
The Knickerbockers,
Terrestrial Tones,
Supertramp,
Minor Threat,
Howard Jones,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Al Stewart,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jacques Brel,
Jeru the Damaja,
This Heat,
The Fall,
Aaron Thompson,
F. McDonald,
Hashim,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.