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 Venezuela and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Wolf Eyes to the jazz 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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Bootsy Collins,
The Happenings,
John Lydon,
Soft Cell,
Boz Scaggs,
Bill Wells,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hardrive,
Circle Jerks,
Carl Craig,
The Toasters,
The Last Poets,
Eden Ahbez,
The Velvet Underground,
Janne Schatter,
Darondo,
Frankie Knuckles,
Don Cherry,
Junior Murvin,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Pus,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Jeff Lynne,
AZ,
The Angels of Light,
Suicide,
Altered Images,
The Slackers,
Saccharine Trust,
Grandmaster Flash,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fire Engines,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mad Mike,
Boredoms,
Ohio Players,
Roxette,
DJ Style,
Hashim,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kurtis Blow,
Magma,
Cameo,
The Gladiators,
Warsaw,
John Cale,
R.M.O.,
X-102,
Johnny Clarke,
Marvin Gaye,
Pantytec,
E-Dancer,
Arab on Radar,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
EPMD,
L. Decosne,
The Leaves,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.