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 Djibouti and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 the Fania All-Stars to the grime 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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Janne Schatter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Maurizio,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
Anthony Braxton,
Tears for Fears,
The Real Kids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
the Soft Cell,
Joe Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Rotary Connection,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skriet,
The Count Five,
Crash Course in Science,
Ultravox,
Bobby Womack,
Intrusion,
Delon & Dalcan,
Faust,
Jacob Miller,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fatback Band,
Hasil Adkins,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring,
Quantec,
Arab on Radar,
Magma,
Ten City,
Roxette,
8 Eyed Spy,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Bang On A Can,
Joyce Sims,
Scrapy,
Organ,
The Birthday Party,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amazonics,
Tommy Roe,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Electric Prunes,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
KRS-One,
Al Stewart,
The Litter,
Motorama,
Duran Duran,
The Grass Roots,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.