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 Togo and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the crunk 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Arcadia,
ABC,
Pussy Galore,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roger Hodgson,
Tom Boy,
Eric Dolphy,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Skatalites,
The Toasters,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Flag,
Mo-Dettes,
New York Dolls,
JFA,
the Swans,
Panda Bear,
Glenn Branca,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Arab on Radar,
Nirvana,
Infiniti,
Fluxion,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Evens,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Fugs,
Alton Ellis,
Technova,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kool Moe Dee,
Suicide,
The Kinks,
Ice-T,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Mummies,
Michelle Simonal,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Pantytec,
Patti Smith,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MDC,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rapeman,
The Music Machine,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Masters at Work,
This Heat,
Frankie Knuckles,
Spandau Ballet,
Eve St. Jones,
Saccharine Trust,
KRS-One,
Peter & Gordon,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.