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 Samoa and from Delhi.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Susan Cadogan,
Oblivians,
Roxy Music,
Jeff Lynne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
a-ha,
Royal Trux,
Jerry's Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Barrington Levy,
Thompson Twins,
Joyce Sims,
Liliput,
EPMD,
The Monochrome Set,
Rapeman,
Arcadia,
Wally Richardson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roy Ayers,
LL Cool J,
Joy Division,
Pole,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Letta Mbulu,
The Smoke,
Neu!,
Popol Vuh,
Country Teasers,
The Searchers,
Fluxion,
Cluster,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Can,
Mark Hollis,
Clear Light,
Aloha Tigers,
Arab on Radar,
Siglo XX,
Metal Thangz,
Todd Terry,
T.S.O.L.,
The Velvet Underground,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Slackers,
The United States of America,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Moody Blues,
Johnny Osbourne,
T. Rex,
Kevin Saunderson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Flag,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sister Nancy,
The Star Department,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.