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 San Marino and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the mellotron 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 The Golliwogs to the crunk 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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All The Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
the Human League,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mission of Burma,
Pantaleimon,
Whodini,
The Black Dice,
Anthony Braxton,
The Golliwogs,
La Düsseldorf,
Slick Rick,
Scrapy,
FM Einheit,
Easy Going,
Y Pants,
T. Rex,
Moby Grape,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Nas,
Model 500,
The Electric Prunes,
Little Man,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
China Crisis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lungfish,
Iggy Pop,
The Gladiators,
Mr. Review,
Nick Fraelich,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fat Boys,
Fad Gadget,
MDC,
Andrew Hill,
Guru Guru,
The Fugs,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Alice Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ronnie Foster,
Malaria!,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Move,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
Roy Ayers,
Jacques Brel,
Avey Tare,
The Mummies,
Unwound,
The Gun Club,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Görl,
David Axelrod,
Piero Umiliani,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Interpol, Interpol, Interpol, Interpol.
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.