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 Bangladesh 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 harpsichord 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 The Fuzztones to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Morten Harket,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Velvet Underground,
The Mummies,
Boz Scaggs,
Alice Coltrane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The United States of America,
The Cowsills,
The Searchers,
Buzzcocks,
R.M.O.,
Desert Stars,
Gang of Four,
Brass Construction,
Idris Muhammad,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bill Wells,
Hashim,
Eddi Front,
Lou Reed,
Slave,
Ultra Naté,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Mojo Men,
Con Funk Shun,
Wings,
The Birthday Party,
48th St. Collective,
Jeff Lynne,
DJ Sneak,
Sparks,
Shuggie Otis,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Normal,
Lungfish,
Gregory Isaacs,
Harry Pussy,
Black Moon,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rekid,
Girls At Our Best!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sonic Youth,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Beau Brummels,
Marmalade,
Gichy Dan,
Los Fastidios,
The Durutti Column,
Fear,
The Gun Club,
Eve St. Jones,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Warren Ellis,
LL Cool J,
Qualms,
Warsaw,
Soft Cell,
Yaz,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.