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 Senegal and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Fortunes to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cal Tjader. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
The Standells,
Bobby Byrd,
The Moleskins,
Technova,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Porter Ricks,
Mark Hollis,
Marmalade,
Maurizio,
Yazoo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Interpol,
Dual Sessions,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gang Green,
the Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brand Nubian,
Royal Trux,
Dead Boys,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
T. Rex,
The Pop Group,
Masters at Work,
Zero Boys,
Ken Boothe,
Anthony Braxton,
the Bar-Kays,
R.M.O.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Robert Görl,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Malaria!,
the Germs,
Second Layer,
Minny Pops,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ronnie Foster,
JFA,
Throbbing Gristle,
48th St. Collective,
Unrelated Segments,
Bush Tetras,
The Human League,
Angry Samoans,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mad Mike,
the Soft Cell,
Darondo,
The Dave Clark Five,
Chris & Cosey,
A Certain Ratio,
Derrick Morgan,
Spoonie Gee,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.