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 Liberia and from Lyon.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord 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 Soul Sonic Force to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amazonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Letta Mbulu,
Schoolly D,
Glenn Branca,
The Detroit Cobras,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slick Rick,
Mark Hollis,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Monks,
Theoretical Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Standells,
Ituana,
Jacob Miller,
Soft Cell,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eve St. Jones,
Tom Boy,
Flipper,
The Associates,
Delon & Dalcan,
Infiniti,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dennis Brown,
The Fortunes,
Radio Birdman,
Prince Buster,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Neu!,
Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barry Ungar,
Public Enemy,
The Seeds,
Technova,
The Golliwogs,
The Slackers,
Chris & Cosey,
X-102,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marmalade,
Young Marble Giants,
Dave Gahan,
Fluxion,
EPMD,
Jandek,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
48th St. Collective,
Gastr Del Sol,
Main Source,
Ten City,
The Real Kids,
Bobby Womack,
James White and The Blacks,
Sound Behaviour,
Moebius,
The Star Department,
Tomorrow,
Scrapy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Music Machine,
Motorama, Motorama, Motorama, Motorama.
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.