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 Nauru and from Taipei.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 New Age Steppers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nils Olav. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jerry's Kids,
Jacques Brel,
Loose Ends,
Chris Corsano,
Susan Cadogan,
Deepchord,
Gang of Four,
Black Moon,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Livin' Joy,
Sex Pistols,
Gerry Rafferty,
Suburban Knight,
Connie Case,
Altered Images,
The Evens,
Scientists,
Barry Ungar,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Maurizio,
Ken Boothe,
Wire,
Glenn Branca,
Albert Ayler,
Yazoo,
Lakeside,
Clear Light,
Ralphi Rosario,
Chris & Cosey,
Funkadelic,
Todd Rundgren,
Sällskapet,
Morten Harket,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Cell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Sherman,
Radiohead,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Modern Lovers,
T. Rex,
Buzzcocks,
Hot Snakes,
AZ,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
DNA,
Tears for Fears,
Quadrant,
Thee Headcoats,
The Litter,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ice-T,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.