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 Vanuatu and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Morten Harket to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 James Chance & The Contortions. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott Heron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Fania All-Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bob Dylan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tears for Fears,
Little Man,
Rosa Yemen,
John Foxx,
One Last Wish,
Nation of Ulysses,
Model 500,
Colin Newman,
T.S.O.L.,
Scrapy,
The Electric Prunes,
The Blues Magoos,
The Saints,
Prince Buster,
Flipper,
Amon Düül II,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Eurythmics,
Pharoah Sanders,
June Days,
Peter & Gordon,
Stetsasonic,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Desert Stars,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Piero Umiliani,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Metal Thangz,
AZ,
Interpol,
The Mummies,
Jacob Miller,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Judy Mowatt,
Schoolly D,
Fear,
Silicon Teens,
Alice Coltrane,
Sonny Sharrock,
Boz Scaggs,
Carl Craig,
Bang On A Can,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Von Mondo,
Morten Harket,
Erykah Badu,
Don Cherry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Henry Cow,
The Barracudas,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Cecil Taylor,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Beau Brummels,
Adolescents,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Gun Club,
The Pretty Things,
The Misunderstood,
Rhythm & Sound,
F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald, F. McDonald.
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.