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 Tuvalu and from Portland.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Accra.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rock 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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Talk Talk,
Rekid,
Bootsy Collins,
Sandy B,
Johnny Osbourne,
Amon Düül II,
Colin Newman,
The Blackbyrds,
Bluetip,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Eden Ahbez,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pagans,
Glenn Branca,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gregory Isaacs,
Boredoms,
Marine Girls,
The Mojo Men,
The Velvet Underground,
Theoretical Girls,
Babytalk,
Echospace,
Tom Boy,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Nas,
Deepchord,
T. Rex,
Patti Smith,
Curtis Mayfield,
Malaria!,
Drexciya,
Tropical Tobacco,
Amon Düül,
Nirvana,
The Birthday Party,
Banda Bassotti,
The Stooges,
New Age Steppers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Offenders,
Throbbing Gristle,
Matthew Bourne,
Isaac Hayes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Heaven 17,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lyres,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jeff Mills,
Byron Stingily,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lungfish,
Gabor Szabo,
The Remains,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.