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 Mauritius and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 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 In Retrospect to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Bootsy Collins,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Royal Trux,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Section 25,
Little Man,
Ultra Naté,
Nico,
Brass Construction,
L. Decosne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lalann,
Bobby Byrd,
Half Japanese,
Porter Ricks,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
Scion,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sixth Finger,
Agent Orange,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Red Krayola,
Gabor Szabo,
Eddi Front,
Flamin' Groovies,
Colin Newman,
Franke,
Dark Day,
World's Most,
Desert Stars,
Trumans Water,
The Slits,
The Wake,
Althea and Donna,
Public Image Ltd.,
Grauzone,
Masters at Work,
Easy Going,
Basic Channel,
Ossler,
D'Angelo,
Pole,
The Grass Roots,
Wally Richardson,
The Real Kids,
The Searchers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roy Ayers,
Lungfish,
Monolake,
Joyce Sims,
Crispy Ambulance,
Altered Images,
Letta Mbulu,
The Sound,
Dual Sessions,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.