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 East Timor and from Lille.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 F. McDonald to the jazz 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
8 Eyed Spy,
the Human League,
Aaron Thompson,
Mr. Review,
Wasted Youth,
48th St. Collective,
EPMD,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Robert Görl,
Barrington Levy,
Cameo,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flash Fearless,
Bauhaus,
The Tremeloes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Neon Judgement,
The Evens,
Mandrill,
The Litter,
Ten City,
New Age Steppers,
Liliput,
James White and The Blacks,
the Swans,
B.T. Express,
Silicon Teens,
Sandy B,
Ronan,
Au Pairs,
Slave,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Anakelly,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sonics,
Ultra Naté,
Soulsonic Force,
Brass Construction,
Yaz,
Letta Mbulu,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Porter Ricks,
Isaac Hayes,
Guru Guru,
Young Marble Giants,
Wolf Eyes,
Reagan Youth,
Bush Tetras,
Camberwell Now,
Sex Pistols,
Con Funk Shun,
Monolake,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ituana,
Chris Corsano,
Pierre Henry,
JFA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Bananas,
E-Dancer,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.