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 Germany and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eve St. Jones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Pussy Galore,
Black Flag,
Nirvana,
Shoche,
New York Dolls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Dirtbombs,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kayak,
Dark Day,
Rites of Spring,
Popol Vuh,
Roy Ayers,
the Normal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Wire,
Yazoo,
Aaron Thompson,
Matthew Halsall,
Johnny Clarke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gladiators,
Livin' Joy,
Amon Düül II,
Alice Coltrane,
Scott Walker,
LL Cool J,
Buzzcocks,
Patti Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
Trumans Water,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
Kool Moe Dee,
Gastr Del Sol,
F. McDonald,
Sight & Sound,
a-ha,
Oneida,
The New Christs,
Wasted Youth,
Lyres,
Bronski Beat,
David Axelrod,
Bootsy Collins,
Anthony Braxton,
Stereo Dub,
A Certain Ratio,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Duran Duran,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
L. Decosne,
Animal Collective,
The Gap Band,
Basic Channel,
Scrapy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Colin Newman,
Derrick Morgan,
Kerrie Biddell,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.