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 Czech Republic and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 John Foxx 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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Pet Shop Boys,
K-Klass,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Flipper,
Skriet,
Camberwell Now,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Modern Lovers,
The Invisible,
Donald Byrd,
The Toasters,
Soft Cell,
The Litter,
Slick Rick,
The Evens,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
kango's stein massive,
Qualms,
Liliput,
Essential Logic,
Flamin' Groovies,
MC5,
the Association,
Wire,
DNA,
Anthony Braxton,
Todd Rundgren,
Nas,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Angels of Light,
Eric Dolphy,
The Victims,
Camouflage,
Newcleus,
The Zeros,
Tom Boy,
Junior Murvin,
The United States of America,
Cecil Taylor,
Spandau Ballet,
These Immortal Souls,
the Normal,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Panda Bear,
Masters at Work,
Faust,
Kas Product,
Surgeon,
Q65,
Ornette Coleman,
Ralphi Rosario,
Harry Pussy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Beau Brummels,
The Techniques,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Moon,
Joe Finger,
Bill Near,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.