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 Belize and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar 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 Livin' Joy to the rap 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Pole tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Basic Channel,
The Five Americans,
Echospace,
Accadde A,
The Martian,
Donald Byrd,
The Busters,
Y Pants,
The Searchers,
Cymande,
Brothers Johnson,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Leaves,
The Wake,
Matthew Bourne,
The Music Machine,
Ronnie Foster,
Groovy Waters,
Ludus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Minutemen,
Freddie Wadling,
OOIOO,
Bauhaus,
Cecil Taylor,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Cale,
Harmonia,
Surgeon,
Rakim,
Angry Samoans,
Icehouse,
Tomorrow,
Neil Young,
The Skatalites,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fire Engines,
Mandrill,
Sound Behaviour,
Mad Mike,
Gang Green,
Mr. Review,
Babytalk,
Kerri Chandler,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
AZ,
Rufus Thomas,
Metal Thangz,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pantaleimon,
The Invisible,
The Fugs,
Monolake,
Ohio Players,
Tubeway Army,
Urselle,
Charles Mingus,
The Moody Blues,
Severed Heads,
The Dirtbombs,
Blossom Toes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.