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 Kazakhstan and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 the Swans to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Neu!. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
Cluster,
Lakeside,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Durutti Column,
ABC,
The Grass Roots,
Pantytec,
Terrestrial Tones,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Piero Umiliani,
Gang Starr,
Severed Heads,
The Fortunes,
Accadde A,
Q65,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lungfish,
The Blues Magoos,
The Offenders,
Eden Ahbez,
Man Parrish,
Aswad,
Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Technova,
Pulsallama,
Fear,
Electric Prunes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerri Chandler,
Fluxion,
Black Pus,
Archie Shepp,
Drexciya,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Association,
Bill Near,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers,
The Mojo Men,
Anakelly,
Ossler,
The Doors,
Intrusion,
Peter and Kerry,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
The Trojans,
Joyce Sims,
Second Layer,
The Young Rascals,
David McCallum,
Bush Tetras,
Toni Rubio,
Kenny Larkin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.