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 Equatorial Guinea and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Black Moon to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Mighty Diamonds. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
a-ha,
Sandy B,
Bob Dylan,
Minnie Riperton,
Sällskapet,
Aloha Tigers,
Bobby Byrd,
Wolf Eyes,
Robert Wyatt,
Kurtis Blow,
Lightning Bolt,
Pylon,
Dark Day,
Flash Fearless,
Tomorrow,
Thee Headcoats,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Second Layer,
A Flock of Seagulls,
L. Decosne,
Oblivians,
The Gun Club,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Buzzcocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Barbara Tucker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
James White and The Blacks,
Gang Green,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
David Axelrod,
Livin' Joy,
Robert Hood,
EPMD,
Eric Copeland,
Panda Bear,
Black Bananas,
The Gories,
Pole,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Happenings,
John Foxx,
Drexciya,
Joe Finger,
Man Parrish,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marshall Jefferson,
Trumans Water,
Althea and Donna,
Davy DMX,
Deepchord,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Roxy Music,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fort Wilson Riot,
June Days,
Unrelated Segments,
The Kinks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills, Jeff Mills.
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.