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 Cambodia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Sun City Girls to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kayak,
Gang of Four,
Crooked Eye,
Mantronix,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sister Nancy,
10cc,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Liliput,
Sound Behaviour,
Steve Hackett,
Terrestrial Tones,
Erasure,
Excepter,
Johnny Clarke,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deepchord,
The Sonics,
Prince Buster,
The Gap Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cowsills,
Agent Orange,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joy Division,
Trumans Water,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun City Girls,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lee Hazlewood,
New York Dolls,
Echospace,
L. Decosne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Cure,
Black Bananas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Silicon Teens,
The Slits,
Marvin Gaye,
B.T. Express,
Albert Ayler,
Radio Birdman,
the Soft Cell,
Jacob Miller,
David McCallum,
Tommy Roe,
X-101,
Rufus Thomas,
James White and The Blacks,
The Five Americans,
Whodini,
Howard Jones,
Kaleidoscope,
H. Thieme,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lower 48,
The Saints,
Pantytec,
Minnie Riperton,
Pylon,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.