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 Liechtenstein and from Tehran.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Jimmy McGriff. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Warsaw,
Sun City Girls,
The Cure,
Lou Reed,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Model 500,
Harry Pussy,
Black Flag,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ronnie Foster,
Cluster,
Inner City,
Animal Collective,
Junior Murvin,
The Selecter,
Tomorrow,
Duran Duran,
The Happenings,
Terrestrial Tones,
Con Funk Shun,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Thompson Twins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dead C,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Slick Rick,
Funkadelic,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
Half Japanese,
Massinfluence,
Jeff Lynne,
Dave Gahan,
The Black Dice,
Curtis Mayfield,
Jerry's Kids,
cv313,
The Cowsills,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Move,
A Certain Ratio,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Pus,
Cymande,
Jawbox,
Youth Brigade,
Intrusion,
Rufus Thomas,
Bronski Beat,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gang Green,
Joe Smooth,
Tommy Roe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
New York Dolls,
Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep, Black Sheep.
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.