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 Vanuatu and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Dirtbombs to the rap 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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Amon Düül II,
LL Cool J,
Panda Bear,
Ice-T,
Clear Light,
Con Funk Shun,
The Fortunes,
The Martian,
Hot Snakes,
The Monochrome Set,
Tres Demented,
Roger Hodgson,
Chris Corsano,
The Divine Comedy,
The Doors,
Moss Icon,
The Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Jandek,
Matthew Halsall,
Eric Copeland,
Pole,
H. Thieme,
The Associates,
Sonny Sharrock,
Zero Boys,
Black Sheep,
MDC,
Mad Mike,
Graham Central Station,
Warsaw,
The Remains,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Deakin,
Lee Hazlewood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eli Mardock,
Scientists,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
F. McDonald,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flamin' Groovies,
Audionom,
Tomorrow,
Roy Ayers,
Hoover,
The Misunderstood,
The Real Kids,
Aswad,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Groovy Waters,
Stiv Bators,
Bill Near,
Black Flag,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Visage,
Cybotron,
Hasil Adkins,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.