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 Malaysia and from Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Curtis Mayfield to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minor Threat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Gun Club,
Slave,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gang Green,
FM Einheit,
The Standells,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roger Hodgson,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tropical Tobacco,
Surgeon,
Lebanon Hanover,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Neon Judgement,
Excepter,
Neu!,
In Retrospect,
Sarah Menescal,
Banda Bassotti,
The Pretty Things,
DJ Sneak,
Henry Cow,
PIL,
Quadrant,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Mandrill,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Black Dice,
Pierre Henry,
Thee Headcoats,
Eurythmics,
Fluxion,
The Victims,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mary Jane Girls,
Inner City,
Cheater Slicks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rekid,
KRS-One,
The Fuzztones,
Arab on Radar,
Minnie Riperton,
Bizarre Inc.,
MDC,
The Happenings,
New Order,
Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Rundgren,
Magazine,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Leaves,
Fela Kuti,
New York Dolls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Real Kids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Aaron Thompson,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.