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 Congo and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 Knickerbockers to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moleskins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cybotron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Spandau Ballet,
Monks,
Lou Christie,
Eric B and Rakim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Tom Boy,
Patti Smith,
The Detroit Cobras,
Con Funk Shun,
Chris Corsano,
Yellowson,
Boz Scaggs,
Johnny Clarke,
Pet Shop Boys,
Nirvana,
Soulsonic Force,
Grey Daturas,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Walker Brothers,
The Saints,
Lucky Dragons,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Yazoo,
Suburban Knight,
Eli Mardock,
Joe Finger,
Tommy Roe,
Steve Hackett,
Peter and Kerry,
the Sonics,
Interpol,
X-Ray Spex,
Kerri Chandler,
Wings,
Gong,
Lebanon Hanover,
Arthur Verocai,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rhythm & Sound,
Rekid,
These Immortal Souls,
The J.B.'s,
Bootsy Collins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Bobby Byrd,
The Residents,
Television,
Davy DMX,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
Metal Thangz,
The Sonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Dorothy Ashby,
Radiopuhelimet,
Trumans Water,
Von Mondo,
Eurythmics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.