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 Kiribati and from Woodstock.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Excepter to the jazz 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 Leonard Cohen. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Dawn Penn,
Swans,
Barrington Levy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Adolescents,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Golliwogs,
Wasted Youth,
Sight & Sound,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bob Dylan,
Stereo Dub,
The Misunderstood,
Brick,
Newcleus,
In Retrospect,
Man Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Heaven 17,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rosa Yemen,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
X-101,
Angry Samoans,
Max Romeo,
The Cowsills,
The Divine Comedy,
Average White Band,
Desert Stars,
Flash Fearless,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Pretty Things,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
CMW,
Robert Hood,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Echospace,
Icehouse,
Judy Mowatt,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Laurel Aitken,
DJ Sneak,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Andrew Hill,
Nas,
Drexciya,
Can,
Magazine,
Eric Dolphy,
Buzzcocks,
Sandy B,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Neu!,
Public Enemy,
Marine Girls,
Soft Cell,
Crash Course in Science,
Shoche,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.