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 Ethiopia and from Copenhagen.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Byron Stingily to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Slick Rick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ken Boothe,
The Busters,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Animal Collective,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fluxion,
The Martian,
Infiniti,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pere Ubu,
Sun City Girls,
Absolute Body Control,
The Trojans,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Blues Magoos,
Youth Brigade,
Aural Exciters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Godley & Creme,
Rufus Thomas,
Crime,
The Grass Roots,
Girls At Our Best!,
Erasure,
Judy Mowatt,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Soulsonic Force,
the Swans,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Move,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Angry Samoans,
The Moody Blues,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mo-Dettes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ohio Players,
KRS-One,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Cameo,
Pagans,
The Searchers,
Colin Newman,
The Saints,
Pole,
The Count Five,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott Heron,
Johnny Clarke,
Monks,
Audionom,
Amon Düül II,
La Düsseldorf,
Sonic Youth,
Minutemen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Don Cherry,
Hot Snakes,
The Offenders,
Fad Gadget,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.