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 Togo and from Glasgow.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Cabaret Voltaire 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Ludus,
Tom Boy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Crash Course in Science,
CMW,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
Eric B and Rakim,
Funkadelic,
Albert Ayler,
The Names,
Shuggie Otis,
The American Breed,
Erasure,
Graham Central Station,
Reuben Wilson,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Lydon,
Grauzone,
Boz Scaggs,
Todd Terry,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sugar Minott,
This Heat,
Bobby Sherman,
The Happenings,
Patti Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boredoms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barrington Levy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lungfish,
Nico,
The Leaves,
Yaz,
The Techniques,
Audionom,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Byrd,
UT,
Soul II Soul,
Eurythmics,
Matthew Halsall,
The Star Department,
Avey Tare,
John Coltrane,
The Fugs,
Lightning Bolt,
The Kinks,
Ossler,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
10cc,
Rapeman,
Henry Cow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.