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 El Salvador and from London.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Dirtbombs to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 David Axelrod. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Robert Hood,
Sister Nancy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Ludus,
Harry Pussy,
Gong,
Cameo,
The Monks,
The Angels of Light,
The Busters,
Nirvana,
Traffic Nightmare,
Maurizio,
Gang Green,
Popol Vuh,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blossom Toes,
Lyres,
Rakim,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Pylon,
Mr. Review,
a-ha,
Zapp,
Arab on Radar,
Colin Newman,
cv313,
Donny Hathaway,
Matthew Bourne,
The Fire Engines,
Blancmange,
Marmalade,
Wally Richardson,
The Toasters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Arthur Verocai,
The Skatalites,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Walker Brothers,
Icehouse,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Alison Limerick,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Isaac Hayes,
Scrapy,
Metal Thangz,
The Star Department,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Darondo,
Patti Smith,
Magma,
The Fugs,
Brand Nubian,
The Martian,
D'Angelo,
Black Sheep,
The Smoke,
Connie Case,
Kenny Larkin,
Rapeman,
The Mummies,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.