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 Norway and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 spring reverb 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 a-ha to the punk 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 Lalo Schifrin. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy's Rubber Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mad Mike,
Pantytec,
Gerry Rafferty,
Donny Hathaway,
Simply Red,
Graham Central Station,
Rakim,
Minutemen,
Slick Rick,
The Leaves,
DNA,
Scientists,
X-102,
T. Rex,
Susan Cadogan,
Thee Headcoats,
The Sound,
Junior Murvin,
Franke,
Scott Walker,
Surgeon,
Basic Channel,
Television Personalities,
Suburban Knight,
Camberwell Now,
The Stooges,
Wasted Youth,
The Zeros,
Lee Hazlewood,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Grass Roots,
Rapeman,
Technova,
Marshall Jefferson,
H. Thieme,
Lower 48,
The Barracudas,
the Human League,
Roxette,
Jawbox,
Gichy Dan,
Hasil Adkins,
Scrapy,
Ponytail,
F. McDonald,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Average White Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stetsasonic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Crash Course in Science,
Barry Ungar,
Carl Craig,
The Blackbyrds,
Chrome,
Severed Heads,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.