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 Eritrea and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bobby Byrd to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Arthur Verocai tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flash Fearless record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring 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?
The Young Rascals,
Y Pants,
Scrapy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Letta Mbulu,
Nico,
Freddie Wadling,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Smiths,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rites of Spring,
T. Rex,
Susan Cadogan,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Moody Blues,
Magma,
Sun Ra,
Idris Muhammad,
Crispian St. Peters,
Max Romeo,
The Durutti Column,
The Fortunes,
the Human League,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aural Exciters,
Chris Corsano,
Duran Duran,
Carl Craig,
Deakin,
Jeru the Damaja,
Suburban Knight,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bob Dylan,
Faraquet,
The Neon Judgement,
Terrestrial Tones,
Altered Images,
Davy DMX,
The Standells,
Tubeway Army,
10cc,
The Dirtbombs,
Marine Girls,
Index,
Symarip,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jeff Mills,
The Divine Comedy,
Spoonie Gee,
Man Eating Sloth,
Roy Ayers,
Porter Ricks,
The Gap Band,
Lakeside,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mary Jane Girls,
Pussy Galore,
Fluxion,
Model 500,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scan 7,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.