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 Brunei and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Amon Düül II to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Bang on a Can All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Strawberry Alarm Clock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
The Names,
B.T. Express,
Ornette Coleman,
Drive Like Jehu,
Nas,
Brass Construction,
Chris & Cosey,
Robert Hood,
The Gap Band,
Jandek,
MDC,
Depeche Mode,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Ken Boothe,
The Standells,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Iggy Pop,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Real Kids,
Erykah Badu,
Scion,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Average White Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Harry Pussy,
Chrome,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
In Retrospect,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Drexciya,
Quando Quango,
Sandy B,
Toni Rubio,
Porter Ricks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Associates,
Barry Ungar,
Little Man,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Piero Umiliani,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joe Smooth,
Aural Exciters,
Theoretical Girls,
Frankie Knuckles,
Kaleidoscope,
The Velvet Underground,
Eric Copeland,
T. Rex,
Dorothy Ashby,
Cheater Slicks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Interpol,
Loose Ends,
Letta Mbulu,
Sixth Finger,
ABC,
Arcadia,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.