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 Nauru 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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord 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 B.T. Express 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Technova 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Gil Scott Heron,
Black Pus,
Gang Green,
Kool Moe Dee,
DJ Sneak,
Swell Maps,
Roy Ayers,
Electric Prunes,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Crash Course in Science,
Television,
Lakeside,
Tommy Roe,
Flash Fearless,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Monks,
The Offenders,
Excepter,
The Pretty Things,
The Slits,
Fugazi,
The Walker Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Joe Smooth,
Chris Corsano,
Sällskapet,
Camberwell Now,
Junior Murvin,
Clear Light,
Suicide,
Andrew Hill,
The Cure,
Khruangbin,
John Lydon,
The Mojo Men,
EPMD,
Inner City,
Hoover,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lightning Bolt,
Maurizio,
Intrusion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ossler,
The Dirtbombs,
Groovy Waters,
Brothers Johnson,
Ice-T,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Monochrome Set,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Standells,
Blancmange,
T. Rex,
Graham Central Station,
Throbbing Gristle,
Laurel Aitken,
John Coltrane,
Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol, Gastr Del Sol.
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.