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 Austria and from London.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 United States of America to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sällskapet. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Smog,
Das Ding,
Electric Prunes,
Q and Not U,
The Detroit Cobras,
Mark Hollis,
Gregory Isaacs,
EPMD,
Skaos,
the Bar-Kays,
Sun Ra,
Ten City,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Bill Wells,
Excepter,
Rotary Connection,
Moebius,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
OOIOO,
DNA,
The Fortunes,
The Index,
World's Most,
Sixth Finger,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Anakelly,
Loose Ends,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Barracudas,
Scratch Acid,
Goldenarms,
Johnny Clarke,
Fat Boys,
Mad Mike,
Masters at Work,
The Wake,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Rakim,
Angry Samoans,
The Buckinghams,
Letta Mbulu,
Mission of Burma,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Music Machine,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pantytec,
Talk Talk,
Minnie Riperton,
Fear,
Bobby Womack,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.