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 Malta 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Porter Ricks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Severed Heads,
Little Man,
Joensuu 1685,
Lightning Bolt,
Ten City,
Soulsonic Force,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Gun Club,
Y Pants,
Crime,
Nik Kershaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
Negative Approach,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Deadbeat,
Procol Harum,
Radiohead,
Scientists,
Drive Like Jehu,
Hot Snakes,
Qualms,
Rites of Spring,
Kevin Saunderson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Fania All-Stars,
R.M.O.,
Wasted Youth,
Cal Tjader,
The New Christs,
Stereo Dub,
Byron Stingily,
X-101,
The Monochrome Set,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sällskapet,
The Litter,
Dual Sessions,
Godley & Creme,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Deepchord,
Fatback Band,
Brand Nubian,
the Germs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Skarface,
Grauzone,
The Human League,
Bill Wells,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wire,
Television Personalities,
The Wake,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich, Nick Fraelich.
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.