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 Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Malaria! to the techno 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All The Birthday Party tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Mission of Burma,
Dorothy Ashby,
Morten Harket,
Faraquet,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Velvet Underground,
The Remains,
Underground Resistance,
Harry Pussy,
The Index,
Cluster,
Andrew Hill,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
H. Thieme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Mantronix,
Lungfish,
Slick Rick,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sun City Girls,
Sister Nancy,
Neu!,
Dawn Penn,
Pylon,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heaven 17,
Tim Buckley,
Cheater Slicks,
The Dead C,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Soft Cell,
Aloha Tigers,
Jeru the Damaja,
June of 44,
Minor Threat,
Ituana,
Marine Girls,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr,
Banda Bassotti,
Stiv Bators,
Curtis Mayfield,
a-ha,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Althea and Donna,
Rhythm & Sound,
Unrelated Segments,
The Move,
Josef K,
One Last Wish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Swell Maps,
DJ Style,
Gerry Rafferty,
Altered Images,
Crispian St. Peters,
Camberwell Now,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.