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 Monaco and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar 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 Jimmy McGriff to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
the Sonics,
Scientists,
Gang Gang Dance,
June Days,
The Fuzztones,
Peter and Kerry,
Yellowson,
Derrick Morgan,
Funky Four + One,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Zeros,
Groovy Waters,
Make Up,
Ronan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pet Shop Boys,
Average White Band,
Bauhaus,
Letta Mbulu,
Parry Music,
Dark Day,
Byron Stingily,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mad Mike,
Con Funk Shun,
The Moody Blues,
Brand Nubian,
Public Enemy,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Darondo,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Popol Vuh,
The Knickerbockers,
Freddie Wadling,
Pulsallama,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tropical Tobacco,
Saccharine Trust,
Nas,
kango's stein massive,
Mars,
Boogie Down Productions,
Young Marble Giants,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
The Toasters,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gang of Four,
The Monks,
Arthur Verocai,
Gerry Rafferty,
Talk Talk,
Dave Gahan,
The Raincoats,
a-ha,
Pantytec,
Suicide,
Duran Duran,
Eddi Front,
Loose Ends,
Ponytail,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.