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 Switzerland and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba 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 Unwound to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Happenings,
Bob Dylan,
Johnny Clarke,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Barracudas,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott Heron,
Popol Vuh,
The Move,
The Index,
Parry Music,
Matthew Bourne,
June of 44,
This Heat,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Angry Samoans,
Todd Terry,
The Remains,
The Monochrome Set,
10cc,
Susan Cadogan,
Patti Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Yusef Lateef,
Mandrill,
The Fuzztones,
Todd Rundgren,
H. Thieme,
Albert Ayler,
Connie Case,
The Slackers,
Second Layer,
Josef K,
Judy Mowatt,
Robert Görl,
Barrington Levy,
Tears for Fears,
Deepchord,
Wolf Eyes,
David McCallum,
Television Personalities,
The Young Rascals,
Stetsasonic,
Sandy B,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Moebius,
The Gun Club,
Scion,
Roxette,
Clear Light,
Make Up,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Red Krayola,
Donald Byrd,
Kas Product,
Banda Bassotti,
The Offenders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor, The Royal Family And The Poor.
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.