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 Bangladesh and from Woodstock.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Heaven 17 to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All Urselle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Vladislav Delay,
Maleditus Sound,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Yaz,
Judy Mowatt,
Kerri Chandler,
Heaven 17,
Toni Rubio,
Das Ding,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Siglo XX,
Flipper,
Warren Ellis,
Fugazi,
The Slits,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Delta 5,
Franke,
Harry Pussy,
Scratch Acid,
Jacob Miller,
Yazoo,
Don Cherry,
The Doobie Brothers,
John Lydon,
KRS-One,
Funky Four + One,
Sam Rivers,
The Selecter,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wings,
The Martian,
Y Pants,
Deadbeat,
Ronan,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jerry's Kids,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Darondo,
Agitation Free,
Soft Machine,
Marvin Gaye,
Kevin Saunderson,
Suicide,
Mission of Burma,
Bang On A Can,
Neu!,
Derrick Morgan,
Khruangbin,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Pop Group,
Mo-Dettes,
L. Decosne,
B.T. Express,
Brand Nubian,
Spandau Ballet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Moody Blues,
Mars,
Dennis Brown,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O., R.M.O..
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.