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 Namibia and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the dance 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Amon Düül,
Spandau Ballet,
Derrick May,
Pulsallama,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kurtis Blow,
Barrington Levy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
T.S.O.L.,
The Smoke,
Von Mondo,
Robert Wyatt,
The Cure,
Ronnie Foster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pierre Henry,
Freddie Wadling,
Spoonie Gee,
The Stooges,
E-Dancer,
The Trojans,
MC5,
These Immortal Souls,
Unrelated Segments,
Warsaw,
Rites of Spring,
Throbbing Gristle,
Smog,
David Axelrod,
Johnny Clarke,
Jandek,
Ornette Coleman,
Blossom Toes,
F. McDonald,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Magazine,
Funkadelic,
Niagra,
Davy DMX,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Roxy Music,
Television Personalities,
Trumans Water,
Talk Talk,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Last Poets,
Soft Cell,
Joe Smooth,
Agent Orange,
The Victims,
the Swans,
Byron Stingily,
Porter Ricks,
Masters at Work,
Maurizio,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bill Near,
Quando Quango,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.