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 Oman and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the punk 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Camberwell Now,
Niagra,
Althea and Donna,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dead Boys,
Erykah Badu,
Fela Kuti,
Drexciya,
The Fire Engines,
Johnny Clarke,
D'Angelo,
Scott Walker,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Minny Pops,
a-ha,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonic Youth,
Quantec,
Crooked Eye,
Danielle Patucci,
Vladislav Delay,
Lucky Dragons,
The Toasters,
B.T. Express,
Animal Collective,
The Blues Magoos,
Suicide,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Television Personalities,
Sam Rivers,
Unrelated Segments,
Skaos,
Fugazi,
Buzzcocks,
Mo-Dettes,
Flipper,
The Divine Comedy,
Faraquet,
Wally Richardson,
Stockholm Monsters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
June of 44,
The Dead C,
James White and The Blacks,
The Blackbyrds,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Vogues,
Ponytail,
K-Klass,
Gang of Four,
Blossom Toes,
Masters at Work,
Kayak,
Joensuu 1685,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalann,
The Cramps,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.