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 Cameroon and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pierre Henry,
Massinfluence,
James White and The Blacks,
Brothers Johnson,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Seeds,
The Last Poets,
In Retrospect,
Colin Newman,
Nik Kershaw,
John Holt,
The Motions,
Roxette,
ABC,
Matthew Bourne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Monks,
The Knickerbockers,
Piero Umiliani,
Sex Pistols,
The Wake,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Half Japanese,
Toni Rubio,
Oblivians,
Malaria!,
Scratch Acid,
Jeff Mills,
Sam Rivers,
Steve Hackett,
Erykah Badu,
The Invisible,
Black Pus,
Yaz,
The Busters,
Japan,
Tres Demented,
The Barracudas,
Sight & Sound,
The Cramps,
Urselle,
Index,
Chris Corsano,
The Gories,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alice Coltrane,
R.M.O.,
Maleditus Sound,
Man Eating Sloth,
ABBA,
Idris Muhammad,
the Bar-Kays,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Human League,
Traffic Nightmare,
Nation of Ulysses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cheater Slicks,
Nirvana,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.