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 Belarus and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar 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 Slits to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Organ record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
The Dirtbombs,
The Red Krayola,
Aural Exciters,
Suicide,
Jimmy McGriff,
Infiniti,
The Angels of Light,
Lou Reed,
Bill Wells,
Sandy B,
Scratch Acid,
Tom Boy,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Brand Nubian,
Rites of Spring,
The Black Dice,
Iggy Pop,
Ronnie Foster,
Jeff Mills,
Josef K,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Second Layer,
Das Ding,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
KRS-One,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sällskapet,
Archie Shepp,
OOIOO,
The Evens,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
Drexciya,
Rhythm & Sound,
Arab on Radar,
Gang of Four,
Gerry Rafferty,
Con Funk Shun,
Hot Snakes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Kinks,
Rod Modell,
Suburban Knight,
The Grass Roots,
cv313,
Lou Christie,
Zapp,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Niagra,
Boz Scaggs,
Rufus Thomas,
Dead Boys,
Man Parrish,
Nico,
Robert Görl,
Janne Schatter,
Franke,
Amon Düül,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.