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 Morocco and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Tears for Fears to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Barbara Tucker,
The Durutti Column,
Terrestrial Tones,
Scratch Acid,
Echospace,
Rekid,
The Real Kids,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jacques Brel,
Circle Jerks,
Yusef Lateef,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Leaves,
Skarface,
ABC,
Monolake,
The Five Americans,
Nirvana,
The Alarm Clocks,
Supertramp,
Davy DMX,
Joy Division,
June Days,
The Busters,
Slick Rick,
Scrapy,
Second Layer,
The Slits,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Moleskins,
The Red Krayola,
Bush Tetras,
Judy Mowatt,
Mary Jane Girls,
T. Rex,
Y Pants,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gang Green,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Desert Stars,
Sun City Girls,
The Move,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tom Boy,
Angry Samoans,
The Birthday Party,
The Gories,
Piero Umiliani,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cure,
Ossler,
Metal Thangz,
Bootsy Collins,
New Age Steppers,
Todd Terry,
Dennis Brown,
Motorama,
Pere Ubu,
Fad Gadget,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.