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 Thailand and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 John Holt to the funk 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
8 Eyed Spy,
The Human League,
Gang Gang Dance,
Main Source,
The Cramps,
Symarip,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alice Coltrane,
Monks,
Amazonics,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Nation of Ulysses,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Arcadia,
Outsiders,
Man Eating Sloth,
Slave,
Rosa Yemen,
Juan Atkins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kerrie Biddell,
Dorothy Ashby,
Boz Scaggs,
the Slits,
Radiopuhelimet,
Vainqueur,
Lower 48,
Jandek,
The Barracudas,
Althea and Donna,
Sun City Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Blues Magoos,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bronski Beat,
Pylon,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alton Ellis,
Spandau Ballet,
EPMD,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eden Ahbez,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Index,
Darondo,
Arthur Verocai,
Oneida,
Suicide,
Unrelated Segments,
Bang On A Can,
Angry Samoans,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Alison Limerick,
The Fire Engines,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Blackbyrds,
Fatback Band,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.