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 Jamaica and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Pantytec to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Newcleus 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 linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Unwound,
Piero Umiliani,
R.M.O.,
Wasted Youth,
Shuggie Otis,
Jawbox,
X-101,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sound Behaviour,
the Germs,
The Birthday Party,
Kerrie Biddell,
Q65,
Matthew Halsall,
The United States of America,
Hardrive,
Amon Düül,
Minor Threat,
Franke,
Boredoms,
Alphaville,
Marshall Jefferson,
Maurizio,
Yusef Lateef,
Prince Buster,
Fad Gadget,
Tom Boy,
Young Marble Giants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Inner City,
Peter and Kerry,
The Martian,
Roger Hodgson,
Main Source,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Red Krayola,
The Slackers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Techniques,
E-Dancer,
The Selecter,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Hashim,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Neil Young,
Bush Tetras,
Arab on Radar,
Jacques Brel,
The Residents,
Sex Pistols,
Second Layer,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Steve Hackett,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Agitation Free,
Au Pairs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.