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 Netherlands and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 sitar 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 Simply Red to the disco 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All One Last Wish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Curtis Mayfield record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Germs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blancmange,
Jeff Mills,
Hardrive,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Visage,
Dorothy Ashby,
Chris Corsano,
Joey Negro,
The Gun Club,
Rufus Thomas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Star Department,
Big Daddy Kane,
Gong,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Fela Kuti,
Skarface,
Magazine,
Traffic Nightmare,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kas Product,
Janne Schatter,
Nas,
Clear Light,
Swans,
K-Klass,
Vainqueur,
Prince Buster,
Ohio Players,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sonic Youth,
The Fuzztones,
Cecil Taylor,
Y Pants,
the Association,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
MC5,
Ultravox,
Joe Smooth,
Aswad,
Motorama,
Main Source,
Scan 7,
MDC,
Kayak,
Young Marble Giants,
The Litter,
Ponytail,
Wolf Eyes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
L. Decosne,
Black Bananas,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Fire Engines,
John Holt,
Barry Ungar,
Jawbox,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.