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 Guinea and from Lyon.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Metal Thangz to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All KRS-One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ludus,
Idris Muhammad,
Organ,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Porter Ricks,
Black Pus,
Dawn Penn,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eve St. Jones,
Y Pants,
Rufus Thomas,
The Tremeloes,
The Pop Group,
Peter & Gordon,
Ten City,
The Smoke,
The Slits,
The Grass Roots,
Technova,
Lalann,
Oblivians,
Intrusion,
Cameo,
R.M.O.,
Symarip,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Skriet,
Popol Vuh,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alice Coltrane,
Cal Tjader,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Walker Brothers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sam Rivers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Junior Murvin,
kango's stein massive,
Arcadia,
Unwound,
Delta 5,
The Standells,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Donny Hathaway,
Silicon Teens,
Maleditus Sound,
Zero Boys,
Second Layer,
Minor Threat,
Isaac Hayes,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Fania All-Stars,
Infiniti,
The Gap Band,
Gong,
La Düsseldorf,
The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers, The Modern Lovers.
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.