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 Iraq and from Madrid.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Human League to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Nick Fraelich,
Flipper,
Sonic Youth,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Harry Pussy,
The Modern Lovers,
Ponytail,
John Coltrane,
Echospace,
Kayak,
Johnny Osbourne,
Niagra,
Tears for Fears,
Ultra Naté,
Letta Mbulu,
Suburban Knight,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
One Last Wish,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Birthday Party,
The Techniques,
Deadbeat,
Urselle,
Franke,
Heaven 17,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Bar-Kays,
Aaron Thompson,
Gang of Four,
Glenn Branca,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Marc Almond,
Soul II Soul,
Avey Tare,
Blossom Toes,
Mandrill,
the Swans,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Byrd,
The Buckinghams,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Misunderstood,
Lucky Dragons,
the Normal,
The Golliwogs,
June of 44,
Eve St. Jones,
Bill Near,
Moby Grape,
Supertramp,
The Red Krayola,
Unrelated Segments,
Clear Light,
Sly & The Family Stone,
David McCallum,
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Can,
Adolescents,
Wire,
Japan,
The New Christs,
The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs, The Fugs.
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.