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 Angola and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Crispy Ambulance to the jazz 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All The Stooges tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dave Clark Five,
Rufus Thomas,
Kerrie Biddell,
D'Angelo,
Boredoms,
The Saints,
The Five Americans,
The Red Krayola,
The Slackers,
The Gun Club,
Radio Birdman,
Altered Images,
John Holt,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stetsasonic,
Joe Smooth,
Amazonics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Symarip,
Gang Green,
Intrusion,
Patti Smith,
Erasure,
Marshall Jefferson,
Magma,
Yaz,
Supertramp,
Ultimate Spinach,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone,
The Busters,
Jandek,
Glambeats Corp.,
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
Circle Jerks,
Camberwell Now,
Liliput,
Henry Cow,
Desert Stars,
Mr. Review,
The Motions,
the Soft Cell,
Fat Boys,
Radiohead,
R.M.O.,
Pulsallama,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Swans,
The Moody Blues,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Erykah Badu,
Bad Manners,
Lou Reed,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Evens,
Lungfish,
Yellowson,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.