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 Gabon and from Manchester.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Agent Orange to the disco 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Germs,
Albert Ayler,
Kool Moe Dee,
The United States of America,
Pole,
Magazine,
Toni Rubio,
Charles Mingus,
Delta 5,
This Heat,
Harry Pussy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hasil Adkins,
Excepter,
The Star Department,
Eric B and Rakim,
Andrew Hill,
The Doors,
Maurizio,
Tubeway Army,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Drexciya,
Monks,
Dark Day,
Public Enemy,
Second Layer,
Byron Stingily,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Arthur Verocai,
Eddi Front,
The Knickerbockers,
Loose Ends,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The New Christs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Susan Cadogan,
Banda Bassotti,
Silicon Teens,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Normal,
Ultravox,
Danielle Patucci,
The Sonics,
Fat Boys,
Radiohead,
Bluetip,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Reed,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cameo,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sound,
Ludus,
The Modern Lovers,
The Sisters of Mercy,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Mo-Dettes,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.