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 Bulgaria and from Accra.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Nick Fraelich,
Brothers Johnson,
Althea and Donna,
Au Pairs,
June of 44,
Mandrill,
Pylon,
The Angels of Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Blancmange,
Gong,
Rapeman,
The Divine Comedy,
Man Parrish,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barrington Levy,
Sandy B,
The Cure,
Deadbeat,
Iggy Pop,
The Moody Blues,
Pere Ubu,
Theoretical Girls,
Skriet,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wolf Eyes,
The Blackbyrds,
Animal Collective,
Shuggie Otis,
The Leaves,
The American Breed,
Inner City,
Johnny Osbourne,
Neu!,
Bang On A Can,
Sun City Girls,
Tubeway Army,
This Heat,
Kurtis Blow,
Stetsasonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Severed Heads,
Half Japanese,
Jawbox,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Agent Orange,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Boz Scaggs,
Television,
Television Personalities,
Technova,
Dead Boys,
Harry Pussy,
The Star Department,
Duran Duran,
Alice Coltrane,
Altered Images,
Sarah Menescal,
Visage,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.