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 Antigua and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Selecter to the electroclash 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 Aural Exciters. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Cell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Terry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
Angry Samoans,
Aaron Thompson,
Rod Modell,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Girls At Our Best!,
James White and The Blacks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Maleditus Sound,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mandrill,
Ornette Coleman,
Subhumans,
Arthur Verocai,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Idris Muhammad,
The Count Five,
Second Layer,
Nick Fraelich,
John Lydon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Sex Pistols,
Stiv Bators,
Ronan,
Visage,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Newcleus,
Jawbox,
Davy DMX,
The Litter,
The Seeds,
Anthony Braxton,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Little Man,
the Swans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Moby Grape,
Todd Terry,
Sister Nancy,
Hardrive,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Names,
Porter Ricks,
Vainqueur,
Guru Guru,
The Slackers,
Marmalade,
Hasil Adkins,
the Human League,
Amon Düül II,
Patti Smith,
The Happenings,
Jesper Dahlback,
Judy Mowatt,
Fat Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Last Poets,
June of 44,
Black Bananas,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.