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 Philippines and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lyon.
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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 U.S. Maple to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Pulsallama,
The Real Kids,
Alphaville,
Second Layer,
Urselle,
Danielle Patucci,
Motorama,
Tomorrow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ken Boothe,
Rites of Spring,
The Litter,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
The J.B.'s,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mary Jane Girls,
8 Eyed Spy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Boredoms,
Iggy Pop,
Whodini,
John Foxx,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tom Boy,
Franke,
Dorothy Ashby,
AZ,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Prince Buster,
Kurtis Blow,
the Bar-Kays,
Popol Vuh,
The American Breed,
China Crisis,
Sparks,
The Gun Club,
Tommy Roe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bang On A Can,
Oblivians,
the Normal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ituana,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Golliwogs,
Bill Wells,
Brick,
Joensuu 1685,
the Germs,
D'Angelo,
Rotary Connection,
Cybotron,
DJ Sneak,
Henry Cow,
Main Source,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Eli Mardock,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.