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 Austria and from Lyon.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes 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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lower 48 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Interpol,
Kenny Larkin,
Gil Scott Heron,
John Lydon,
Inner City,
The Doobie Brothers,
Danielle Patucci,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Todd Terry,
The Names,
Wings,
Nico,
Eddi Front,
Surgeon,
Camberwell Now,
Supertramp,
Rod Modell,
Slick Rick,
Skarface,
Sugar Minott,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
Kerrie Biddell,
John Cale,
Royal Trux,
Shuggie Otis,
The American Breed,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Barclay James Harvest,
JFA,
The Electric Prunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lalann,
New Age Steppers,
Amon Düül II,
Severed Heads,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
The Smoke,
Ten City,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Babytalk,
Jeff Mills,
Yellowson,
Jerry's Kids,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Raincoats,
Man Parrish,
K-Klass,
Nirvana,
Iggy Pop,
Ornette Coleman,
Cecil Taylor,
Mark Hollis,
Al Stewart,
Susan Cadogan,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nick Fraelich,
Michelle Simonal,
Todd Rundgren,
Bill Wells,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.