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 Zimbabwe and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Boz Scaggs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
AZ,
Wire,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Technova,
Amon Düül,
Loose Ends,
Sarah Menescal,
Leonard Cohen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Dirtbombs,
The Mummies,
Man Parrish,
The Gladiators,
Grandmaster Flash,
Swans,
Big Daddy Kane,
Rod Modell,
Monks,
Boredoms,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
The Music Machine,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nik Kershaw,
The Cramps,
The Misunderstood,
Howard Jones,
the Soft Cell,
Nico,
Black Flag,
Chris Corsano,
Jandek,
Kevin Saunderson,
Morten Harket,
The Smoke,
48th St. Collective,
Animal Collective,
LL Cool J,
The Fuzztones,
Matthew Bourne,
The Stooges,
The American Breed,
Derrick May,
Judy Mowatt,
the Normal,
Robert Wyatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blancmange,
Crash Course in Science,
Stiv Bators,
Kayak,
Organ,
John Coltrane,
Deadbeat,
Radiohead,
Juan Atkins,
Symarip,
Cheater Slicks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.