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 Turkey and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Robert Wyatt to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mighty Diamonds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
Half Japanese,
Faust,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Infiniti,
Eli Mardock,
Flamin' Groovies,
Deepchord,
The Star Department,
The American Breed,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Soft Cell,
The Raincoats,
Can,
Ralphi Rosario,
Matthew Bourne,
Swans,
New Order,
Bill Wells,
Traffic Nightmare,
Funky Four + One,
Susan Cadogan,
Al Stewart,
Los Fastidios,
Sixth Finger,
Saccharine Trust,
Brick,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Modern Lovers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Urselle,
Slick Rick,
The Electric Prunes,
The Stooges,
Cymande,
Silicon Teens,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Happenings,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oblivians,
Icehouse,
kango's stein massive,
Henry Cow,
Archie Shepp,
The Barracudas,
Con Funk Shun,
Moby Grape,
Cheater Slicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
cv313,
Chris Corsano,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quando Quango,
Kaleidoscope,
James White and The Blacks,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mark Hollis,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Harmonia,
Royal Trux,
Avey Tare,
Ponytail,
Max Romeo,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.