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 Ghana and from Milan.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Letta Mbulu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
kango's stein massive,
Monks,
Lou Reed,
Bauhaus,
The Wake,
DJ Style,
Smog,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brand Nubian,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Metal Thangz,
Archie Shepp,
Khruangbin,
Y Pants,
Simply Red,
Hoover,
Bob Dylan,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Surgeon,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fear,
The Dead C,
X-Ray Spex,
Mars,
Eric B and Rakim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harry Pussy,
Adolescents,
Bobby Womack,
June of 44,
Al Stewart,
Scan 7,
Eric Dolphy,
Funkadelic,
LL Cool J,
Jeff Lynne,
The Leaves,
Slave,
Slick Rick,
Aloha Tigers,
Rakim,
Derrick May,
Tres Demented,
This Heat,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Misunderstood,
Lightning Bolt,
Jerry's Kids,
Godley & Creme,
Gong,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Blake Baxter,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren, Todd Rundgren.
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.