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 Manchester.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dead Boys to the techno 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The Sisters of Mercy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
The Selecter,
The Cowsills,
Alton Ellis,
Buzzcocks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Electric Prunes,
Robert Wyatt,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rekid,
Sparks,
New Age Steppers,
The Raincoats,
Jacob Miller,
Erykah Badu,
The Sonics,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
Marine Girls,
Man Parrish,
Nik Kershaw,
Warren Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rapeman,
Magma,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The J.B.'s,
Zapp,
Masters at Work,
Kayak,
Robert Görl,
Rakim,
Theoretical Girls,
Chris & Cosey,
Lee Hazlewood,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Alison Limerick,
Glenn Branca,
Royal Trux,
Supertramp,
Faust,
The Durutti Column,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Malaria!,
Severed Heads,
Grauzone,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Techniques,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Residents,
Nirvana,
Delta 5,
Lungfish,
Ronnie Foster,
Fat Boys,
Charles Mingus,
Mantronix,
Peter and Kerry,
Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images, Altered Images.
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.