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 Botswana and from Tokyo.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Todd Rundgren to the funk 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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Youth Brigade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work 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 an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Stooges,
Brick,
H. Thieme,
The New Christs,
The Motions,
Wasted Youth,
Grey Daturas,
Andrew Hill,
The Flesh Eaters,
Negative Approach,
The Gun Club,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Womack,
Sex Pistols,
Infiniti,
Lalann,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Germs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minutemen,
Tubeway Army,
Radio Birdman,
Cecil Taylor,
Agent Orange,
the Sonics,
The Happenings,
Nas,
Ronan,
Crash Course in Science,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rosa Yemen,
The Moody Blues,
Malaria!,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dave Gahan,
Barrington Levy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gang Green,
Lucky Dragons,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ultra Naté,
Bad Manners,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dawn Penn,
This Heat,
John Lydon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Skaos,
Bootsy Collins,
John Cale,
Ponytail,
Isaac Hayes,
Ornette Coleman,
Jerry's Kids,
Joyce Sims,
Althea and Donna,
The American Breed,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.