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 Seychelles and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Scratch Acid to the funk 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Letta Mbulu,
Gang Green,
This Heat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Laurel Aitken,
Pharoah Sanders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lalo Schifrin,
Au Pairs,
Sister Nancy,
Little Man,
Bluetip,
Soulsonic Force,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Pretty Things,
Prince Buster,
Loose Ends,
Mary Jane Girls,
Crime,
Robert Hood,
JFA,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Martian,
Fatback Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Alton Ellis,
Kas Product,
Quantec,
PIL,
Marvin Gaye,
Arcadia,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Count Five,
David Axelrod,
Moss Icon,
These Immortal Souls,
Cameo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Dennis Brown,
Basic Channel,
Das Ding,
Thompson Twins,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Connie Case,
UT,
The Offenders,
Juan Atkins,
The Black Dice,
Faust,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jacques Brel,
Pagans,
Angry Samoans,
Mark Hollis,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Names,
Nas,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Audionom,
Unrelated Segments,
Black Moon,
Infiniti,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.