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 Argentina and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Maleditus Sound,
MC5,
Chrome,
The New Christs,
Danielle Patucci,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gladiators,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Move,
David Bowie,
Gang Green,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Pretty Things,
Visage,
Joe Finger,
Interpol,
The American Breed,
Slick Rick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Avey Tare,
Barrington Levy,
Supertramp,
The Gun Club,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Los Fastidios,
Bluetip,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Coltrane,
Robert Hood,
The Smoke,
Morten Harket,
Minny Pops,
U.S. Maple,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Clear Light,
Lakeside,
Eric Dolphy,
Index,
Yaz,
Black Sheep,
Scott Walker,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Archie Shepp,
Grey Daturas,
Hashim,
The Count Five,
Stiv Bators,
Bush Tetras,
Bronski Beat,
The United States of America,
Ludus,
Arcadia,
DJ Sneak,
Desert Stars,
Hasil Adkins,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Make Up,
Fugazi,
Mandrill,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.