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 Comoros and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Trojans to the punk 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Shadows of Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
DNA,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Certain Ratio,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Nick Fraelich,
The Detroit Cobras,
U.S. Maple,
the Association,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pylon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Groovy Waters,
Lakeside,
Pagans,
Black Bananas,
Yazoo,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
OOIOO,
June of 44,
Marc Almond,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tropical Tobacco,
Peter & Gordon,
Negative Approach,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Susan Cadogan,
Bob Dylan,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eden Ahbez,
The Human League,
Big Daddy Kane,
Japan,
The Knickerbockers,
The American Breed,
Black Pus,
Rosa Yemen,
The Barracudas,
Yellowson,
Tubeway Army,
Barry Ungar,
The Slackers,
Heaven 17,
Loose Ends,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Schoolly D,
Pulsallama,
Wolf Eyes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David Axelrod,
The Flesh Eaters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Aswad,
the Swans,
Little Man,
Josef K,
Connie Case,
UT,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth.
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.