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 Bremen.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Arthur Verocai to the punk 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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Cluster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
The Standells,
Graham Central Station,
Janne Schatter,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ice-T,
Laurel Aitken,
Japan,
Unwound,
Ituana,
The Move,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Beau Brummels,
Audionom,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Hot Snakes,
The Modern Lovers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sight & Sound,
The Barracudas,
The Skatalites,
Simply Red,
U.S. Maple,
Black Moon,
EPMD,
The Red Krayola,
The Martian,
Lungfish,
Peter & Gordon,
The Blues Magoos,
The Tremeloes,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
DJ Style,
Crime,
Neil Young,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Outsiders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rufus Thomas,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Scratch Acid,
The Victims,
Spandau Ballet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Fat Boys,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Marine Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Detroit Cobras,
Soft Cell,
Lalo Schifrin,
Thompson Twins,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
ABC,
Joy Division,
These Immortal Souls,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.