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 Brunei and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Edmonton.
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 rhodes 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the dance 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an oboe and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Suburban Knight,
Pylon,
Chris Corsano,
K-Klass,
Todd Rundgren,
Malaria!,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
Lakeside,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Leonard Cohen,
Guru Guru,
Nick Fraelich,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Janne Schatter,
Patti Smith,
Sexual Harrassment,
Model 500,
The Star Department,
Pagans,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cymande,
The J.B.'s,
Gerry Rafferty,
X-Ray Spex,
Severed Heads,
Sun City Girls,
The Residents,
Pere Ubu,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cowsills,
Rekid,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Joey Negro,
The Martian,
The Cure,
Q and Not U,
The Five Americans,
Fugazi,
Duran Duran,
Barrington Levy,
Essential Logic,
Todd Terry,
Jawbox,
Chrome,
Sixth Finger,
Newcleus,
Terrestrial Tones,
Robert Wyatt,
Johnny Clarke,
Freddie Wadling,
CMW,
a-ha,
Andrew Hill,
Colin Newman,
Bill Near,
Boz Scaggs,
Grey Daturas,
Skarface,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.