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 Latvia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 rhodes 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MC5,
Jeff Mills,
World's Most,
The Sonics,
The Saints,
Bobby Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Tom Boy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
D'Angelo,
Scientists,
The Fall,
Warsaw,
Television Personalities,
Bob Dylan,
Cameo,
Jacob Miller,
In Retrospect,
Kurtis Blow,
The Five Americans,
Cecil Taylor,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Delon & Dalcan,
Y Pants,
Lalo Schifrin,
Shuggie Otis,
Fela Kuti,
The Offenders,
The Angels of Light,
Dead Boys,
Kaleidoscope,
The Birthday Party,
Sound Behaviour,
Black Flag,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fuzztones,
Scion,
Liliput,
The Vogues,
Stiv Bators,
Khruangbin,
Make Up,
Cybotron,
Graham Central Station,
Von Mondo,
E-Dancer,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
X-102,
Judy Mowatt,
The Knickerbockers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring,
Man Parrish,
The Wake,
Qualms,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.