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 Uzbekistan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the crunk 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Todd Rundgren,
The Electric Prunes,
The Knickerbockers,
10cc,
The Dirtbombs,
The New Christs,
ABBA,
Suicide,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
The Skatalites,
Gang of Four,
Blake Baxter,
The Happenings,
Roxy Music,
Thompson Twins,
Jawbox,
Half Japanese,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Agent Orange,
Grauzone,
Derrick May,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Blackbyrds,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slits,
Aswad,
Fat Boys,
Can,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wings,
Malaria!,
Robert Hood,
Yazoo,
Funkadelic,
Slave,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Eurythmics,
Massinfluence,
B.T. Express,
Minutemen,
Max Romeo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Circle Jerks,
The Music Machine,
Radio Birdman,
Reagan Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
Nas,
Nils Olav,
Kas Product,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
John Foxx,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.