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 Georgia and from Calgary.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron 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 The Motions to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New York Dolls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
The Last Poets,
Jacob Miller,
Shoche,
Barclay James Harvest,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Sherman,
L. Decosne,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Procol Harum,
Lungfish,
The Residents,
Lyres,
Ken Boothe,
The Cramps,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Doors,
Joe Finger,
The Black Dice,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Wake,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
Tropical Tobacco,
Juan Atkins,
The Selecter,
Jeff Lynne,
Curtis Mayfield,
Bauhaus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kurtis Blow,
Faust,
Tubeway Army,
The Music Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Traffic Nightmare,
Delon & Dalcan,
Supertramp,
Patti Smith,
The American Breed,
Byron Stingily,
Robert Wyatt,
Reuben Wilson,
Delta 5,
Ohio Players,
Monolake,
Blossom Toes,
Eve St. Jones,
Black Moon,
The Knickerbockers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sex Pistols,
Quando Quango,
Sällskapet,
Rakim,
Boredoms,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Todd Rundgren,
Black Bananas,
Bang On A Can,
Kevin Saunderson,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.