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 Saudi Arabia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Susan Cadogan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron 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?
Mars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
CMW,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Names,
The Dave Clark Five,
Delta 5,
Depeche Mode,
Dawn Penn,
Aswad,
Arcadia,
Terrestrial Tones,
Young Marble Giants,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Rod Modell,
Pulsallama,
Brothers Johnson,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flipper,
cv313,
Cheater Slicks,
Black Moon,
Whodini,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Radio Birdman,
Bush Tetras,
Procol Harum,
Gerry Rafferty,
Al Stewart,
Altered Images,
The Remains,
Symarip,
The Happenings,
Kurtis Blow,
The Pop Group,
Neu!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Slick Rick,
Danielle Patucci,
The J.B.'s,
One Last Wish,
Zero Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Scott Walker,
The Invisible,
the Association,
Mr. Review,
Marine Girls,
The Music Machine,
Black Bananas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Hot Snakes,
Dead Boys,
Funky Four + One,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Velvet Underground,
Bobby Womack,
Fluxion,
Eddi Front,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.