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 Seychelles and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 linndrum 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 Chrome to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Depeche Mode. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Al Stewart record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Metal Thangz,
Camberwell Now,
The Electric Prunes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Easy Going,
Slick Rick,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sam Rivers,
The Star Department,
UT,
Charles Mingus,
Motorama,
Thee Headcoats,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ponytail,
D'Angelo,
Quantec,
Suicide,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Soft Cell,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Buzzcocks,
Lightning Bolt,
Monolake,
Livin' Joy,
Minutemen,
Isaac Hayes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Echospace,
Oblivians,
Ultra Naté,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moby Grape,
Wings,
Brick,
Accadde A,
Lalo Schifrin,
Intrusion,
The Mummies,
Mr. Review,
The Leaves,
Bauhaus,
Kayak,
Jacob Miller,
Roy Ayers,
The Dirtbombs,
The Monks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Gap Band,
KRS-One,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slits,
The Durutti Column,
Rapeman,
Rites of Spring,
Scott Walker,
Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck, Jesper Dahlbäck.
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.