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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Alphaville to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rosa Yemen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Porter Ricks,
John Cale,
Amazonics,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Matthew Bourne,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Whodini,
Stetsasonic,
Oblivians,
Mark Hollis,
Groovy Waters,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lakeside,
Juan Atkins,
New Order,
Theoretical Girls,
The Offenders,
Basic Channel,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultra Naté,
Sandy B,
Newcleus,
Nils Olav,
The Saints,
Drive Like Jehu,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tom Boy,
Bob Dylan,
Minnie Riperton,
The Divine Comedy,
Severed Heads,
Surgeon,
Robert Görl,
Don Cherry,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Birthday Party,
Cal Tjader,
The Slits,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ituana,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lee Hazlewood,
John Coltrane,
Audionom,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
X-102,
Stereo Dub,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Grass Roots,
Essential Logic,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
Tomorrow,
Jerry's Kids,
Blossom Toes,
Toni Rubio,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül,
Warsaw,
Lou Reed,
The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes, The Electric Prunes.
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.