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 Kazakhstan and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Robert Wyatt to the jazz 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 Faust. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida 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?
The Associates,
Robert Görl,
The Grass Roots,
Bobby Byrd,
The Dirtbombs,
Wolf Eyes,
Jeff Mills,
Boredoms,
Soft Cell,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kenny Larkin,
The Young Rascals,
The Fall,
Brothers Johnson,
Fatback Band,
The Cramps,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Slits,
Loose Ends,
Sandy B,
Oblivians,
MDC,
UT,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Surgeon,
The Blues Magoos,
Parry Music,
Oneida,
Monolake,
Eddi Front,
DJ Style,
The Mojo Men,
Cal Tjader,
Organ,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joyce Sims,
Los Fastidios,
The Red Krayola,
The Blackbyrds,
Grauzone,
Black Bananas,
Donny Hathaway,
Sex Pistols,
Kayak,
Babytalk,
The Dead C,
Sun City Girls,
Can,
Amon Düül,
Crime,
Marc Almond,
Inner City,
New York Dolls,
The Sonics,
Bush Tetras,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Swell Maps,
Scion,
John Lydon,
The Moody Blues,
World's Most,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.