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 Kyrgyzstan and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Alice Coltrane to the grunge 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terrestrial Tones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fugs,
The Searchers,
Smog,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Index,
Fluxion,
Black Moon,
Flipper,
The Invisible,
The Birthday Party,
Marvin Gaye,
JFA,
the Fania All-Stars,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masters at Work,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Coltrane,
Trumans Water,
Duran Duran,
the Soft Cell,
Donald Byrd,
Drexciya,
Easy Going,
The Wake,
Bauhaus,
Peter and Kerry,
Marmalade,
Eden Ahbez,
Roxette,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fuzztones,
The Slits,
The Cowsills,
Marshall Jefferson,
Dawn Penn,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Parrish,
Toni Rubio,
Fela Kuti,
Royal Trux,
Crispy Ambulance,
Los Fastidios,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Adolescents,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bob Dylan,
World's Most,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Seeds,
Fatback Band,
Kayak,
Zero Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Ultra Naté,
The Zeros,
Basic Channel,
Lebanon Hanover,
Desert Stars,
The J.B.'s,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.