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 Qatar and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Association. All the underground hits.
All Shuggie Otis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
the Association,
Girls At Our Best!,
World's Most,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gichy Dan,
U.S. Maple,
Pussy Galore,
Guru Guru,
Sight & Sound,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Joey Negro,
Donny Hathaway,
Davy DMX,
Half Japanese,
Jeff Lynne,
T. Rex,
Lou Reed,
DNA,
The Invisible,
Fatback Band,
Janne Schatter,
Harry Pussy,
Pantytec,
Arcadia,
Albert Ayler,
the Germs,
Unwound,
Qualms,
Black Pus,
Connie Case,
Pole,
New Age Steppers,
Rufus Thomas,
Bobby Byrd,
Eurythmics,
Cecil Taylor,
Josef K,
Chrome,
Ornette Coleman,
Procol Harum,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Black Bananas,
The Real Kids,
Ossler,
Pantaleimon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Malaria!,
Funky Four + One,
The Last Poets,
Nas,
Lalann,
Agent Orange,
Hasil Adkins,
Peter & Gordon,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cowsills,
Freddie Wadling,
James White and The Blacks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Mad Mike,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.