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 Mexico and from Johannesburg.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Gichy Dan to the techno 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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX 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 funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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 Move,
Quando Quango,
Deakin,
Rapeman,
Swell Maps,
U.S. Maple,
The Trojans,
Amazonics,
Whodini,
Big Daddy Kane,
Matthew Bourne,
Man Parrish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Second Layer,
Symarip,
Peter and Kerry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mary Jane Girls,
Camberwell Now,
Pylon,
Fat Boys,
Arcadia,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Severed Heads,
Angry Samoans,
Al Stewart,
Cal Tjader,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alphaville,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
8 Eyed Spy,
Guru Guru,
Black Pus,
Thee Headcoats,
Ludus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
cv313,
Andrew Hill,
Rufus Thomas,
Trumans Water,
Ken Boothe,
MC5,
Drexciya,
Gong,
Eddi Front,
Eurythmics,
Scan 7,
Tim Buckley,
The Kinks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Saccharine Trust,
Agitation Free,
Nirvana,
Unrelated Segments,
Animal Collective,
Aloha Tigers,
R.M.O.,
Connie Case,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.