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 Liberia 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Godley & Creme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Cymande,
Sun City Girls,
ABBA,
Barbara Tucker,
Funkadelic,
Spandau Ballet,
Lyres,
The Modern Lovers,
The Busters,
Jawbox,
Make Up,
Derrick Morgan,
Byron Stingily,
Essential Logic,
The United States of America,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marmalade,
Minor Threat,
the Soft Cell,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Fear,
The Searchers,
Rakim,
Youth Brigade,
The Monks,
Crime,
Camouflage,
Moby Grape,
Interpol,
Pantytec,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bizarre Inc.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
June Days,
June of 44,
Swans,
The Standells,
Susan Cadogan,
Flash Fearless,
Dead Boys,
The Barracudas,
Mr. Review,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Zeros,
Aaron Thompson,
Ituana,
Popol Vuh,
Eden Ahbez,
Neil Young,
Kaleidoscope,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth, Man Eating Sloth.
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.