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 Moldova and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the crunk 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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Heaven 17 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Suicide,
Davy DMX,
The Dead C,
Grandmaster Flash,
PIL,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joe Finger,
Flamin' Groovies,
B.T. Express,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Second Layer,
Accadde A,
Clear Light,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gories,
Laurel Aitken,
Franke,
Interpol,
Matthew Halsall,
Sister Nancy,
Easy Going,
James White and The Blacks,
the Sonics,
The Neon Judgement,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gastr Del Sol,
Newcleus,
Malaria!,
Trumans Water,
Q65,
David Axelrod,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Country Joe & The Fish,
DJ Sneak,
Cybotron,
Television,
DJ Style,
the Association,
The Offenders,
Eric B and Rakim,
Skarface,
Absolute Body Control,
The Buckinghams,
Ultravox,
Magazine,
Man Parrish,
Bronski Beat,
Inner City,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Slick Rick,
Ornette Coleman,
The Happenings,
Adolescents,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pole,
Lyres,
The Last Poets,
Ken Boothe,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.