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 Marshall Islands and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Visage to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Graham Central Station,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rufus Thomas,
Audionom,
DJ Style,
Slave,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Count Five,
Visage,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Index,
Infiniti,
Laurel Aitken,
Mr. Review,
Aaron Thompson,
Idris Muhammad,
Todd Rundgren,
Fad Gadget,
The Grass Roots,
X-101,
Brothers Johnson,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soulsonic Force,
John Holt,
The Cowsills,
Television,
Freddie Wadling,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Smog,
KRS-One,
The Gap Band,
Kerri Chandler,
Derrick May,
Pussy Galore,
Jandek,
Eli Mardock,
MDC,
Harry Pussy,
Anthony Braxton,
Johnny Osbourne,
Soul II Soul,
The Evens,
Wasted Youth,
This Heat,
The Raincoats,
The Fall,
Severed Heads,
The Toasters,
Moss Icon,
The Saints,
Goldenarms,
The Monks,
Sex Pistols,
Drexciya,
Robert Hood,
Malaria!,
Rod Modell,
Stetsasonic,
Gerry Rafferty,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.