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 Equatorial Guinea and from Edmonton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
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 Dorothy Ashby to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Dave Clark Five. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Niagra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Adolescents,
Terry Callier,
Jacob Miller,
Chris Corsano,
Unwound,
Barrington Levy,
The Mojo Men,
R.M.O.,
Quantec,
Marmalade,
Mars,
Surgeon,
Bobby Byrd,
This Heat,
Bush Tetras,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Offenders,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
James White and The Blacks,
John Coltrane,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Wyatt,
Index,
Joe Smooth,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Seeds,
Excepter,
Connie Case,
Kaleidoscope,
the Human League,
Glenn Branca,
Jeru the Damaja,
Prince Buster,
Supertramp,
Ultra Naté,
Crime,
Johnny Clarke,
Lucky Dragons,
Duran Duran,
Scrapy,
FM Einheit,
The Fire Engines,
The Modern Lovers,
AZ,
Kayak,
The Kinks,
Clear Light,
Kerrie Biddell,
Intrusion,
Stetsasonic,
The Remains,
Aloha Tigers,
Freddie Wadling,
Porter Ricks,
Little Man,
Robert Hood,
The Durutti Column,
Eli Mardock,
World's Most,
Sound Behaviour,
China Crisis,
Marvin Gaye,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.