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 Senegal and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 chamberlin 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rock 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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The J.B.'s,
The Monochrome Set,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Clear Light,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Anthony Braxton,
Wire,
The Trojans,
Fugazi,
The Walker Brothers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bluetip,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Pussy Galore,
Al Stewart,
48th St. Collective,
Tres Demented,
Kerri Chandler,
Boz Scaggs,
Niagra,
The Fortunes,
The Litter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Happenings,
Girls At Our Best!,
Accadde A,
Monolake,
Magma,
Agitation Free,
a-ha,
Sound Behaviour,
the Slits,
Quando Quango,
Rakim,
Graham Central Station,
The Wake,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Iggy Pop,
The Index,
Average White Band,
Motorama,
The Gap Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Au Pairs,
Freddie Wadling,
Angry Samoans,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Skarface,
Sister Nancy,
Glenn Branca,
Robert Görl,
The Barracudas,
The Grass Roots,
Monks,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.