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 Antigua 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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum 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 Johnny Clarke to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
The Gladiators,
Brick,
Susan Cadogan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marvin Gaye,
Lalann,
Absolute Body Control,
Outsiders,
David Axelrod,
the Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
La Düsseldorf,
Kaleidoscope,
The Buckinghams,
Oblivians,
Harmonia,
Fela Kuti,
Anthony Braxton,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
MDC,
Terrestrial Tones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Supertramp,
A Certain Ratio,
Scan 7,
T.S.O.L.,
Animal Collective,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Names,
The Angels of Light,
The Martian,
Jacob Miller,
The Fortunes,
Radio Birdman,
Crash Course in Science,
Ice-T,
Unrelated Segments,
Second Layer,
DNA,
Jeff Lynne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Delon & Dalcan,
Lower 48,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Joe Finger,
AZ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Litter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cure,
Slave,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barrington Levy,
Aloha Tigers,
Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan.
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.