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 Chile and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Michael McDonald 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 The Gories to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Schoolly D record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Knickerbockers,
The Grass Roots,
Khruangbin,
Trumans Water,
The Tremeloes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Alton Ellis,
X-101,
The Cramps,
Pussy Galore,
Newcleus,
The Fall,
Gichy Dan,
Cal Tjader,
Sight & Sound,
Malaria!,
Brick,
Liliput,
Supertramp,
China Crisis,
The Last Poets,
Sarah Menescal,
Bill Near,
Robert Hood,
Inner City,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
Camouflage,
Ken Boothe,
Essential Logic,
Blancmange,
Marvin Gaye,
Animal Collective,
The Black Dice,
Mad Mike,
Pharoah Sanders,
Buzzcocks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mantronix,
Swell Maps,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Chris & Cosey,
The Misunderstood,
Sister Nancy,
Grey Daturas,
Infiniti,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Aloha Tigers,
Con Funk Shun,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Kinks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Ronan,
The Birthday Party,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
T. Rex,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Faust,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.