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 Sri Lanka and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator 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 Babytalk to the punk 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 Schoolly D. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Mummies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Faust,
Minnie Riperton,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
One Last Wish,
Minor Threat,
Jerry's Kids,
Joey Negro,
Young Marble Giants,
Pharoah Sanders,
Q and Not U,
Jeff Mills,
Bill Wells,
Barclay James Harvest,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rotary Connection,
Wasted Youth,
Tubeway Army,
The Gun Club,
Metal Thangz,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Funkadelic,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
Darondo,
Angry Samoans,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Groovy Waters,
New Age Steppers,
Albert Ayler,
The Skatalites,
The Human League,
The Invisible,
Ituana,
The Tremeloes,
The Pop Group,
The Victims,
Adolescents,
Eurythmics,
Juan Atkins,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Sarah Menescal,
Royal Trux,
Junior Murvin,
David Bowie,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Durutti Column,
Gichy Dan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Monolake,
Laurel Aitken,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fugazi,
Dual Sessions,
Ronnie Foster,
Sex Pistols,
Fear,
Glenn Branca,
ABC,
The Smoke,
MC5,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.