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 Micronesia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
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 clarinet 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the crunk 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 The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Das Ding record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Mary Jane Girls,
EPMD,
the Soft Cell,
Quadrant,
Piero Umiliani,
Desert Stars,
Wings,
The Star Department,
The Offenders,
Blake Baxter,
Terry Callier,
Scratch Acid,
The Cramps,
Heaven 17,
The Wake,
Quantec,
Stockholm Monsters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Goldenarms,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Average White Band,
Flash Fearless,
Aswad,
Underground Resistance,
Bush Tetras,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Association,
Slick Rick,
The Standells,
Pantytec,
Josef K,
Roy Ayers,
Scrapy,
Scott Walker,
Chris & Cosey,
The Searchers,
Arab on Radar,
The American Breed,
The Litter,
Marine Girls,
Byron Stingily,
Icehouse,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Jeru the Damaja,
Barry Ungar,
Livin' Joy,
Fear,
Lou Reed,
John Coltrane,
Section 25,
Barbara Tucker,
Sugar Minott,
Massinfluence,
The Monochrome Set,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minutemen,
Drive Like Jehu,
Symarip,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.