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 Rwanda and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 chamberlin 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 Desert Stars 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 Aswad. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Fraelich 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Terry,
Blossom Toes,
Banda Bassotti,
Agent Orange,
The United States of America,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Maurizio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Depeche Mode,
Slick Rick,
Symarip,
Scientists,
Q65,
Eric B and Rakim,
Accadde A,
Absolute Body Control,
Reuben Wilson,
The Searchers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Swans,
Andrew Hill,
Chris & Cosey,
The Standells,
Prince Buster,
David Bowie,
Oneida,
Monks,
L. Decosne,
Connie Case,
The Count Five,
Yellowson,
Average White Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Normal,
Mo-Dettes,
The Sonics,
Half Japanese,
Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
Lou Christie,
New Order,
ABC,
Gang Green,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bob Dylan,
The Alarm Clocks,
Brothers Johnson,
Skriet,
The Cowsills,
Donny Hathaway,
The Selecter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Fire Engines,
Anthony Braxton,
Erykah Badu,
E-Dancer,
Eddi Front,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near, Bill Near.
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.