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 Haiti and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
OOIOO,
Warren Ellis,
Dennis Brown,
Cameo,
Letta Mbulu,
Excepter,
Roxy Music,
Skaos,
Fear,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Quantec,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gichy Dan,
Todd Rundgren,
The Techniques,
Nick Fraelich,
Robert Wyatt,
Crime,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Residents,
The Victims,
Marvin Gaye,
DNA,
Ludus,
The Move,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Das Ding,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Crooked Eye,
Suburban Knight,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Minny Pops,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Robert Hood,
Ornette Coleman,
The Wake,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Dirtbombs,
Eurythmics,
Vainqueur,
Derrick May,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Livin' Joy,
Von Mondo,
Andrew Hill,
Pere Ubu,
Tears for Fears,
The Motions,
The Fall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eve St. Jones,
Quando Quango,
the Human League,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Sherman,
Michelle Simonal,
June Days,
Hashim,
Talk Talk,
Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp., Glambeats Corp..
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.