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 Korea South and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 snare 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 In Retrospect to the dance 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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Niagra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Popol Vuh,
Ultravox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roger Hodgson,
Pierre Henry,
China Crisis,
Theoretical Girls,
Bootsy Collins,
June of 44,
Sparks,
Glenn Branca,
Oblivians,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Archie Shepp,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Graham Central Station,
The Fall,
Vainqueur,
Mandrill,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Victims,
Jacques Brel,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
Angry Samoans,
Crooked Eye,
Donald Byrd,
New Age Steppers,
Qualms,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Don Cherry,
Roy Ayers,
New Order,
Camberwell Now,
Skaos,
Man Parrish,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Danielle Patucci,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Grass Roots,
Spoonie Gee,
Brothers Johnson,
John Coltrane,
Gong,
Barrington Levy,
Suburban Knight,
Dave Gahan,
Anthony Braxton,
Porter Ricks,
Joe Smooth,
Hot Snakes,
Kerri Chandler,
La Düsseldorf,
The Red Krayola,
Banda Bassotti,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.