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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Cal Tjader to the dance 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
The Buckinghams,
Yusef Lateef,
The Associates,
The Beau Brummels,
Main Source,
The Fortunes,
Max Romeo,
Barry Ungar,
EPMD,
Ronan,
Adolescents,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Todd Terry,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fatback Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Simply Red,
The Last Poets,
The Remains,
T. Rex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rufus Thomas,
Lakeside,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rosa Yemen,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gories,
Joe Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Gladiators,
The Saints,
The Techniques,
Absolute Body Control,
Joy Division,
China Crisis,
The Star Department,
Boogie Down Productions,
Brand Nubian,
Kool Moe Dee,
H. Thieme,
Skriet,
Bobby Sherman,
Kurtis Blow,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Slackers,
Siglo XX,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Organ,
Sam Rivers,
The Move,
Altered Images,
Gang Starr,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Sonics,
Marc Almond,
The Monochrome Set,
Tommy Roe,
Slave,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.