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 United Kingdom 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Leonard Cohen to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sparks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade 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?
Deepchord,
Dual Sessions,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Germs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stetsasonic,
Vladislav Delay,
Cameo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
The Divine Comedy,
Cecil Taylor,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ornette Coleman,
Fat Boys,
Supertramp,
Donald Byrd,
The Kinks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gang Starr,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Knickerbockers,
The Durutti Column,
OOIOO,
The Gun Club,
Shoche,
Sam Rivers,
Crooked Eye,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Skatalites,
The Sound,
Peter and Kerry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Groovy Waters,
The Offenders,
Dorothy Ashby,
Unwound,
Kaleidoscope,
Faraquet,
Soft Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
The J.B.'s,
Aaron Thompson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Thee Headcoats,
Jacob Miller,
Pagans,
Kurtis Blow,
Aural Exciters,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Ronnie Foster,
The Wake,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Slackers,
Gabor Szabo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Qualms,
The Golliwogs,
Dennis Brown,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy, 8 Eyed Spy.
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.