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 Antigua 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer 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 Gang Green to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Roy Ayers Ubiquity. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantytec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Second Layer,
Jeru the Damaja,
David Bowie,
Con Funk Shun,
Erasure,
the Sonics,
H. Thieme,
Cybotron,
the Germs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Velvet Underground,
Aural Exciters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Inner City,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Y Pants,
The Tremeloes,
The Pretty Things,
Nik Kershaw,
June of 44,
Flash Fearless,
Porter Ricks,
Arab on Radar,
Zapp,
Marc Almond,
Chris Corsano,
Scott Walker,
Eric Dolphy,
The Offenders,
The Cramps,
Babytalk,
The Moody Blues,
Donald Byrd,
Laurel Aitken,
Jacob Miller,
The Blues Magoos,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Q and Not U,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sällskapet,
Terry Callier,
Tim Buckley,
Funky Four + One,
Subhumans,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Reagan Youth,
Flipper,
Alice Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bill Wells,
June Days,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Youth Brigade,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Spandau Ballet,
Prince Buster,
Animal Collective,
OOIOO,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.