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 Somalia and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Marmalade to the funk 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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer 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?
Babytalk,
The Evens,
The Durutti Column,
Smog,
Chris Corsano,
Dennis Brown,
Gichy Dan,
The Vogues,
Quadrant,
Fluxion,
Kerri Chandler,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sister Nancy,
The Gladiators,
Niagra,
Man Eating Sloth,
Andrew Hill,
The Star Department,
Make Up,
New York Dolls,
June of 44,
Oblivians,
Unwound,
Pagans,
Audionom,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dead C,
Joey Negro,
Jacques Brel,
John Lydon,
Rod Modell,
Alice Coltrane,
Lungfish,
the Swans,
Marshall Jefferson,
48th St. Collective,
Darondo,
Ornette Coleman,
The Kinks,
Intrusion,
Jesper Dahlback,
Skriet,
CMW,
Mo-Dettes,
Von Mondo,
Derrick Morgan,
Icehouse,
Godley & Creme,
The Sonics,
Robert Hood,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Thompson Twins,
Derrick May,
a-ha,
Davy DMX,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cowsills,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Sheep,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.