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 Bangladesh and from Bologna.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Minnie Riperton to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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 Barracudas,
Marvin Gaye,
Motorama,
The Last Poets,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Negative Approach,
Bauhaus,
Jimmy McGriff,
Amon Düül,
The Red Krayola,
Althea and Donna,
Ultimate Spinach,
Au Pairs,
Joyce Sims,
B.T. Express,
KRS-One,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Index,
Henry Cow,
Ponytail,
Cecil Taylor,
Pharoah Sanders,
the Swans,
Sound Behaviour,
Spoonie Gee,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jacob Miller,
Blossom Toes,
The Offenders,
Tommy Roe,
James White and The Blacks,
The Selecter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Slick Rick,
Lightning Bolt,
D'Angelo,
The Stooges,
Radiohead,
The Golliwogs,
Tears for Fears,
Loose Ends,
Scott Walker,
Slave,
June of 44,
Kenny Larkin,
Jeff Lynne,
Swans,
Von Mondo,
Lower 48,
In Retrospect,
Bad Manners,
Arthur Verocai,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Angry Samoans,
Robert Wyatt,
Oblivians,
Sarah Menescal,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Nico,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.