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 Kazakhstan and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the rock 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 Ronan. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
cv313,
Vladislav Delay,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Tremeloes,
Stereo Dub,
Angry Samoans,
Grey Daturas,
T.S.O.L.,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Outsiders,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Litter,
Josef K,
Lucky Dragons,
Pere Ubu,
The Angels of Light,
Idris Muhammad,
The Smoke,
X-102,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Subhumans,
The Durutti Column,
Rhythm & Sound,
Warsaw,
Suicide,
H. Thieme,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Flipper,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ultra Naté,
The Alarm Clocks,
Con Funk Shun,
Boredoms,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
UT,
Camouflage,
Dorothy Ashby,
Deakin,
T. Rex,
Gang Gang Dance,
Patti Smith,
The Shadows of Knight,
Deepchord,
The Evens,
Tres Demented,
Symarip,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Babytalk,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Motorama,
Y Pants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tom Boy,
The Sonics,
Cybotron,
The Flesh Eaters,
Average White Band,
Mark Hollis,
The Stooges,
Interpol,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.