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 Mexico and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Donald Fagen 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 Mandrill to the grunge 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 cv313. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Prince Buster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Groovy Waters,
The Gun Club,
Tropical Tobacco,
Underground Resistance,
Trumans Water,
Scientists,
Boogie Down Productions,
Absolute Body Control,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fire Engines,
Dawn Penn,
Drexciya,
Fugazi,
Fatback Band,
Brothers Johnson,
Lindisfarne,
Gichy Dan,
June of 44,
Soulsonic Force,
Terry Callier,
Nick Fraelich,
Bill Wells,
Mark Hollis,
Joensuu 1685,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Mad Mike,
Tres Demented,
Byron Stingily,
The Cowsills,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The New Christs,
Hoover,
T. Rex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Saints,
A Certain Ratio,
The J.B.'s,
Michelle Simonal,
Avey Tare,
Thee Headcoats,
Wire,
Main Source,
Youth Brigade,
The Gories,
Eric Copeland,
X-102,
Subhumans,
The Human League,
Marmalade,
48th St. Collective,
Andrew Hill,
Roxy Music,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Brand Nubian,
the Association,
Banda Bassotti,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.