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 Dominican Republic and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Toronto.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Marine Girls to the funk 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Nas,
Sister Nancy,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skriet,
Q and Not U,
Tommy Roe,
June of 44,
Scrapy,
Goldenarms,
Malaria!,
Jerry Gold Smith,
R.M.O.,
The Music Machine,
The Sound,
AZ,
CMW,
Dead Boys,
Half Japanese,
Nirvana,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Susan Cadogan,
The Victims,
Wire,
One Last Wish,
Tres Demented,
Man Parrish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Schoolly D,
Stetsasonic,
Iggy Pop,
Bill Wells,
Boogie Down Productions,
Newcleus,
Ituana,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Graham Central Station,
The Index,
Girls At Our Best!,
Easy Going,
Warsaw,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sex Pistols,
Glenn Branca,
James White and The Blacks,
Barbara Tucker,
The Vogues,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cymande,
Stiv Bators,
T. Rex,
Youth Brigade,
The Mojo Men,
Fad Gadget,
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
Gang of Four,
Guru Guru,
The J.B.'s,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.