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 Portugal and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rap 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Minor Threat,
Magma,
Max Romeo,
Lucky Dragons,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Supertramp,
David Axelrod,
Trumans Water,
Excepter,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jacques Brel,
Robert Wyatt,
Can,
Absolute Body Control,
Michelle Simonal,
Zapp,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Names,
Cymande,
Roxette,
Fat Boys,
Harry Pussy,
Ultravox,
Niagra,
Jandek,
Sugar Minott,
The Dead C,
the Germs,
a-ha,
Dual Sessions,
Nas,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Adolescents,
Ice-T,
Sly & The Family Stone,
the Association,
Spandau Ballet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Yellowson,
Don Cherry,
E-Dancer,
Anthony Braxton,
Marshall Jefferson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Simply Red,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sun Ra,
Minny Pops,
Crash Course in Science,
Shuggie Otis,
Gong,
Outsiders,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
Icehouse,
Bizarre Inc.,
Negative Approach,
Judy Mowatt,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.