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 Kiribati and from Paris.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Stockholm.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Rundgren,
Amon Düül II,
Wolf Eyes,
DNA,
the Slits,
Kayak,
The Raincoats,
Althea and Donna,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Henry Cow,
Danielle Patucci,
China Crisis,
The Star Department,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cal Tjader,
The Detroit Cobras,
F. McDonald,
Max Romeo,
Soul Sonic Force,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Bad Manners,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Loose Ends,
Aural Exciters,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Count Five,
Funkadelic,
The Happenings,
The Red Krayola,
June Days,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Association,
Blossom Toes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ten City,
The Five Americans,
Cheater Slicks,
Moby Grape,
Tears for Fears,
10cc,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Deakin,
Al Stewart,
Shuggie Otis,
the Sonics,
Rapeman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lee Hazlewood,
Agitation Free,
Grauzone,
Eddi Front,
The Black Dice,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.