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 Slovakia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Rufus Thomas to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
EPMD,
Marvin Gaye,
Inner City,
Cecil Taylor,
AZ,
Clear Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Black Sheep,
The Wake,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Scientists,
Rotary Connection,
Arab on Radar,
The Index,
FM Einheit,
Tom Boy,
Joyce Sims,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Connie Case,
Trumans Water,
OOIOO,
Rosa Yemen,
Aaron Thompson,
Carl Craig,
Das Ding,
Niagra,
Ten City,
Gil Scott Heron,
B.T. Express,
The Gun Club,
LL Cool J,
Glenn Branca,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
F. McDonald,
Pylon,
Zapp,
The Velvet Underground,
In Retrospect,
Sonny Sharrock,
Darondo,
Alphaville,
The Barracudas,
Byron Stingily,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Boz Scaggs,
Donny Hathaway,
Supertramp,
Lou Reed,
Thompson Twins,
Eden Ahbez,
Excepter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The New Christs,
Arthur Verocai,
Fad Gadget,
Fugazi,
Easy Going,
L. Decosne,
Sandy B,
Lalo Schifrin,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.