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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 guitar 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 Black Pus to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Joey Negro,
Fad Gadget,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Procol Harum,
Ultravox,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Sherman,
Reuben Wilson,
Eddi Front,
Crispian St. Peters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mantronix,
Iggy Pop,
Siglo XX,
Chris & Cosey,
Black Flag,
New Age Steppers,
Scratch Acid,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Blues Magoos,
Al Stewart,
Zapp,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Raincoats,
Bad Manners,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Carl Craig,
Fat Boys,
Supertramp,
PIL,
Mandrill,
Cluster,
Oneida,
Kaleidoscope,
Youth Brigade,
Aswad,
OOIOO,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nils Olav,
Derrick May,
Von Mondo,
The Mummies,
John Holt,
Joy Division,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Stiv Bators,
Depeche Mode,
Wasted Youth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Associates,
Davy DMX,
The Count Five,
Lalann,
The Monks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Judy Mowatt,
Swell Maps,
Radiopuhelimet,
Donny Hathaway,
David McCallum,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.