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 Andorra and from New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pole to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Pylon,
Shuggie Otis,
Rakim,
Joe Finger,
Siglo XX,
The Doors,
CMW,
The American Breed,
The New Christs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Talk Talk,
Kayak,
The Sonics,
Zapp,
The Golliwogs,
Robert Wyatt,
The Beau Brummels,
Pulsallama,
Masters at Work,
Loose Ends,
Morten Harket,
Mission of Burma,
Boogie Down Productions,
Alice Coltrane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Essential Logic,
Lebanon Hanover,
Darondo,
The Moody Blues,
Thee Headcoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Agent Orange,
The Fall,
the Association,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Depeche Mode,
Babytalk,
Bauhaus,
Faraquet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Alison Limerick,
Radiohead,
the Fania All-Stars,
Joyce Sims,
Schoolly D,
A Certain Ratio,
Tears for Fears,
The Toasters,
Cameo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Mummies,
Scion,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Birthday Party,
Marine Girls,
Nas,
Susan Cadogan,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.