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 Netherlands and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manila.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sister Nancy,
H. Thieme,
Minnie Riperton,
Faraquet,
LL Cool J,
La Düsseldorf,
Spandau Ballet,
The Modern Lovers,
Wolf Eyes,
Symarip,
Franke,
a-ha,
Marvin Gaye,
New Order,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marshall Jefferson,
Vladislav Delay,
Johnny Clarke,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Shoche,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mantronix,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joe Finger,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
Roxy Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Robert Hood,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Moss Icon,
X-102,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Liliput,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Fire Engines,
MC5,
Surgeon,
The Associates,
Absolute Body Control,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
These Immortal Souls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Silicon Teens,
Circle Jerks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Organ,
E-Dancer,
Tim Buckley,
Los Fastidios,
The Invisible,
Bronski Beat,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
A Certain Ratio,
Zapp,
Accadde A,
Hashim,
Lower 48,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.