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 Armenia and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 D'Angelo to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
the Fania All-Stars,
Metal Thangz,
Minny Pops,
Absolute Body Control,
Electric Prunes,
Kayak,
Stereo Dub,
The Leaves,
Minnie Riperton,
The Fuzztones,
The Move,
Country Teasers,
The Blackbyrds,
Rotary Connection,
Camberwell Now,
Roxy Music,
Nico,
Excepter,
Sandy B,
the Slits,
Pere Ubu,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Slackers,
Magma,
Q65,
ABBA,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
H. Thieme,
Ornette Coleman,
The Count Five,
The Gun Club,
Prince Buster,
Moebius,
Soft Machine,
Arab on Radar,
Brand Nubian,
Stetsasonic,
The Blues Magoos,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Schoolly D,
James White and The Blacks,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Smoke,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The American Breed,
Slave,
Liliput,
The Offenders,
Porter Ricks,
Niagra,
John Foxx,
The Happenings,
Quadrant,
the Soft Cell,
Aural Exciters,
10cc,
The Sonics,
Jacob Miller,
Lungfish,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.