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 Kiribati and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Boredoms to the rap 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 Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Litter,
LL Cool J,
Erykah Badu,
Terrestrial Tones,
Porter Ricks,
The Count Five,
Robert Görl,
Stereo Dub,
Chris Corsano,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lyres,
Inner City,
Jeff Mills,
Alison Limerick,
T.S.O.L.,
B.T. Express,
Josef K,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Blues Magoos,
The Offenders,
Harmonia,
Mission of Burma,
Ice-T,
Moebius,
Ossler,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ultravox,
10cc,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric Dolphy,
Lakeside,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Scrapy,
Sun City Girls,
Severed Heads,
Little Man,
Monks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Stooges,
Royal Trux,
Masters at Work,
Shoche,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Aural Exciters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Thee Headcoats,
Cybotron,
Fugazi,
Crooked Eye,
The Evens,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Saints,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas, Grey Daturas.
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.