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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the electroclash 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Ronnie Foster,
Dead Boys,
Urselle,
Fela Kuti,
Grauzone,
Joy Division,
The Five Americans,
Fugazi,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Shuggie Otis,
Godley & Creme,
Iggy Pop,
a-ha,
Funky Four + One,
Severed Heads,
U.S. Maple,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Porter Ricks,
Harmonia,
Donny Hathaway,
Crooked Eye,
Colin Newman,
Warsaw,
Lucky Dragons,
Alice Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
Suburban Knight,
Leonard Cohen,
MC5,
Quando Quango,
Deepchord,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
Lungfish,
John Cale,
Eric Copeland,
Arab on Radar,
Q and Not U,
Barrington Levy,
Bad Manners,
Ohio Players,
Cecil Taylor,
Yaz,
Simply Red,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Patti Smith,
ABC,
Stockholm Monsters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Negative Approach,
Young Marble Giants,
The Human League,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Minutemen,
The Last Poets,
Mission of Burma,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Remains,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.