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 Colombia and from Halifax.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1976 at the first Chic 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 These Immortal Souls to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All The Jesus and Mary Chain tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Nas,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ossler,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Bananas,
Negative Approach,
Stetsasonic,
Danielle Patucci,
Rufus Thomas,
Metal Thangz,
Supertramp,
Eurythmics,
John Coltrane,
The Remains,
Spoonie Gee,
Popol Vuh,
Make Up,
Franke,
Peter and Kerry,
Bill Near,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Echospace,
Rites of Spring,
Harpers Bizarre,
Tommy Roe,
Kas Product,
OOIOO,
Alice Coltrane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Misunderstood,
Eric Copeland,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
AZ,
Arab on Radar,
Desert Stars,
Rod Modell,
Bush Tetras,
Eden Ahbez,
Jandek,
Animal Collective,
Alton Ellis,
The Dead C,
Quantec,
Yusef Lateef,
Essential Logic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Derrick May,
Michelle Simonal,
The Moleskins,
The Slits,
Joyce Sims,
Rekid,
Pussy Galore,
Gabor Szabo,
Byron Stingily,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bronski Beat,
Chrome,
The Gap Band,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.