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 Slovenia and from Paris.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 8 Eyed Spy to the disco 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 Los Fastidios. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Panda Bear,
The Techniques,
The Smiths,
Motorama,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Trojans,
Supertramp,
10cc,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The United States of America,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Harry Pussy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Five Americans,
Loose Ends,
The Angels of Light,
Outsiders,
Ossler,
Reagan Youth,
Eric B and Rakim,
F. McDonald,
Mad Mike,
Joey Negro,
Sugar Minott,
Cameo,
X-101,
The Leaves,
The Misunderstood,
Boredoms,
Average White Band,
Smog,
Nas,
Grauzone,
Reuben Wilson,
PIL,
The New Christs,
Marcia Griffiths,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Sherman,
Q and Not U,
Sight & Sound,
The Blues Magoos,
Icehouse,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
Ronan,
Tres Demented,
The Litter,
KRS-One,
Howard Jones,
Alton Ellis,
Jimmy McGriff,
Von Mondo,
Tomorrow,
Radio Birdman,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Cramps,
Sex Pistols,
Marshall Jefferson,
Animal Collective,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.