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 Slovenia and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the techno 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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
The Names,
Thee Headcoats,
The Associates,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
La Düsseldorf,
DNA,
The Music Machine,
Pylon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Monks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Carl Craig,
Wings,
Quantec,
The Smiths,
Agent Orange,
Eden Ahbez,
Ice-T,
Dennis Brown,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gabor Szabo,
Audionom,
Trumans Water,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Danielle Patucci,
Amazonics,
Faust,
Theoretical Girls,
Glenn Branca,
JFA,
The Sound,
The Fugs,
Maurizio,
The Victims,
Don Cherry,
Yellowson,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rosa Yemen,
Slave,
X-Ray Spex,
The Beau Brummels,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Terry Callier,
Brand Nubian,
the Human League,
Siglo XX,
The Divine Comedy,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Neu!,
Erykah Badu,
Mad Mike,
the Slits,
Bizarre Inc.,
Toni Rubio,
Soul II Soul,
Bad Manners,
World's Most, World's Most, World's Most, World's Most.
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.