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 Syria and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 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 The Invisible to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
The Offenders,
Desert Stars,
Black Pus,
Toni Rubio,
Wire,
Curtis Mayfield,
Alton Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Average White Band,
The Moleskins,
Subhumans,
Wally Richardson,
Harry Pussy,
The J.B.'s,
The Music Machine,
David Axelrod,
T.S.O.L.,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eve St. Jones,
Banda Bassotti,
Bobby Sherman,
OOIOO,
Kayak,
Moby Grape,
Smog,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Judy Mowatt,
Bad Manners,
Hashim,
Massinfluence,
The Tremeloes,
The United States of America,
X-101,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scan 7,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ken Boothe,
In Retrospect,
Laurel Aitken,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bizarre Inc.,
Country Teasers,
Andrew Hill,
T. Rex,
B.T. Express,
UT,
Flipper,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ituana,
Popol Vuh,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Das Ding,
Scrapy,
Erykah Badu,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Goldenarms,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quando Quango,
KRS-One,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.