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 Sweden and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric B and Rakim to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Surgeon,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Hill,
Alphaville,
Maleditus Sound,
Kayak,
Liliput,
Grey Daturas,
Motorama,
Whodini,
Khruangbin,
Deadbeat,
Ossler,
Grauzone,
Darondo,
the Slits,
Robert Görl,
Gichy Dan,
Average White Band,
Arthur Verocai,
Robert Hood,
Parry Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantaleimon,
This Heat,
Nils Olav,
Tubeway Army,
Davy DMX,
Lou Christie,
The Techniques,
Absolute Body Control,
The Beau Brummels,
Buzzcocks,
Archie Shepp,
Alice Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Moebius,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jesper Dahlback,
Faust,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ronan,
Echospace,
Radio Birdman,
Gabor Szabo,
Franke,
The United States of America,
Anakelly,
Ultra Naté,
John Lydon,
Brand Nubian,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Buckinghams,
Pierre Henry,
La Düsseldorf,
Gong,
Jawbox,
The Trojans,
Lucky Dragons,
Leonard Cohen,
Sex Pistols,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.