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 Ecuador and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cymande to the dance 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Sight & Sound,
Bronski Beat,
Harry Pussy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nick Fraelich,
T. Rex,
The Gap Band,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Kool Moe Dee,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bluetip,
Joe Finger,
Tommy Roe,
Minnie Riperton,
Little Man,
Pet Shop Boys,
John Cale,
Aaron Thompson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Swans,
Minny Pops,
Kenny Larkin,
Lakeside,
Hardrive,
Aswad,
Goldenarms,
Eric B and Rakim,
Make Up,
Delta 5,
Vainqueur,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
F. McDonald,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Gladiators,
Ice-T,
Can,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cheater Slicks,
Buzzcocks,
Talk Talk,
David Axelrod,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rapeman,
These Immortal Souls,
Radiohead,
Skaos,
Suicide,
Jeff Lynne,
Essential Logic,
June of 44,
Smog,
Amon Düül II,
Gang Gang Dance,
Frankie Knuckles,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Searchers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lou Reed,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.