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 Vanuatu and from Houston.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Bush Tetras to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Evens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
B.T. Express,
The Motions,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pulsallama,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Star Department,
The Martian,
Soul II Soul,
Brass Construction,
Silicon Teens,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fad Gadget,
The Busters,
The Count Five,
Mission of Burma,
Index,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roger Hodgson,
Erasure,
Lou Christie,
FM Einheit,
Sun City Girls,
Marc Almond,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brand Nubian,
Absolute Body Control,
Dark Day,
Severed Heads,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Moody Blues,
ABC,
Gang Starr,
John Foxx,
The Angels of Light,
Crispian St. Peters,
LL Cool J,
Lower 48,
Bang On A Can,
Excepter,
Ludus,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
Cameo,
The J.B.'s,
Underground Resistance,
Gong,
Peter & Gordon,
KRS-One,
David Bowie,
Pantaleimon,
K-Klass,
Dennis Brown,
The Remains,
Mo-Dettes,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Organ, Organ, Organ, Organ.
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.