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 Nigeria and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donald Fagen 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Cowsills,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Slackers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Johnny Osbourne,
Moebius,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Absolute Body Control,
Magma,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
U.S. Maple,
Roy Ayers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Trumans Water,
Babytalk,
Erasure,
Donny Hathaway,
Harmonia,
Camberwell Now,
Pantaleimon,
Grauzone,
The Smiths,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Pet Shop Boys,
Smog,
The Dirtbombs,
Swell Maps,
Barrington Levy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Knickerbockers,
The Standells,
The Flesh Eaters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Toni Rubio,
The Pop Group,
Blancmange,
Mark Hollis,
Parry Music,
The Fugs,
Unwound,
the Normal,
The Fall,
Popol Vuh,
Quadrant,
Essential Logic,
John Holt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Techniques,
Laurel Aitken,
The Golliwogs,
Vainqueur,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Niagra,
The Monochrome Set,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
T.S.O.L.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.