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 Romania and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Aloha Tigers to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All The Offenders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Newcleus,
Gabor Szabo,
Depeche Mode,
Nils Olav,
R.M.O.,
The Fire Engines,
Sam Rivers,
Fatback Band,
Alphaville,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Yaz,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Funky Four + One,
Iggy Pop,
Ken Boothe,
The Red Krayola,
Television Personalities,
The Fall,
Minnie Riperton,
James White and The Blacks,
Isaac Hayes,
Con Funk Shun,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Order,
Mr. Review,
The Residents,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
T. Rex,
Harry Pussy,
Accadde A,
Pagans,
Joyce Sims,
Boz Scaggs,
Loose Ends,
Panda Bear,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Sheep,
Joe Smooth,
Eli Mardock,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Reagan Youth,
Flash Fearless,
Negative Approach,
Eric B and Rakim,
Susan Cadogan,
The Martian,
The Electric Prunes,
Pere Ubu,
Bang On A Can,
Davy DMX,
Gichy Dan,
Roxette,
Crispy Ambulance,
Technova,
L. Decosne,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Vogues,
Outsiders,
The Kinks,
June Days,
Agitation Free,
Heaven 17,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.