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 Ukraine and from Mexico City.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 marimba 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 Deadbeat to the rap 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Letta Mbulu 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June of 44,
Rekid,
Minny Pops,
The Trojans,
Kayak,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Stetsasonic,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aaron Thompson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blancmange,
Vladislav Delay,
The Divine Comedy,
Cluster,
Davy DMX,
The Five Americans,
Sam Rivers,
Audionom,
The Misunderstood,
Harmonia,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Joensuu 1685,
Robert Görl,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Japan,
Nils Olav,
Beasts of Bourbon,
X-101,
Eurythmics,
Maurizio,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Make Up,
Lindisfarne,
Aural Exciters,
Clear Light,
Motorama,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Raincoats,
Lower 48,
Kaleidoscope,
Tears for Fears,
Derrick Morgan,
These Immortal Souls,
Bluetip,
Visage,
Grey Daturas,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Soft Cell,
Sällskapet,
Iggy Pop,
Zapp,
Panda Bear,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fortunes,
Can,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Martian,
The Selecter,
Public Enemy,
Bill Near,
Gang Green,
Jawbox,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.