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 Colombia and from Tokyo.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bush Tetras to the dance 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti 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?
Saccharine Trust,
Nico,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Fuzztones,
Franke,
Altered Images,
Cybotron,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Rakim,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
John Holt,
Anakelly,
Fear,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Wake,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Misunderstood,
The Durutti Column,
Scrapy,
The Standells,
Reuben Wilson,
The Neon Judgement,
U.S. Maple,
Max Romeo,
Ten City,
Lyres,
Ken Boothe,
Connie Case,
Panda Bear,
Black Bananas,
Blake Baxter,
Khruangbin,
The Cramps,
Yazoo,
Aloha Tigers,
Tubeway Army,
Soul Sonic Force,
Chris Corsano,
the Normal,
Pantytec,
Barrington Levy,
Jerry's Kids,
Minor Threat,
DNA,
48th St. Collective,
Lucky Dragons,
Pet Shop Boys,
Echospace,
Drexciya,
Jeff Lynne,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mission of Burma,
Quando Quango,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sex Pistols,
Monolake,
Sonny Sharrock,
Charles Mingus,
Banda Bassotti,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Tremeloes,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.