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 Mauritius and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Milan.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 The Alarm Clocks to the dance 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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Harry Pussy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun City Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Monks,
Arcadia,
Grandmaster Flash,
Franke,
Siglo XX,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Coltrane,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gladiators,
Pere Ubu,
Clear Light,
Bobby Sherman,
In Retrospect,
Masters at Work,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Carl Craig,
Moebius,
Drexciya,
Youth Brigade,
Blancmange,
Magma,
the Fania All-Stars,
Laurel Aitken,
Lindisfarne,
D'Angelo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Thee Headcoats,
Flash Fearless,
Amazonics,
Delta 5,
PIL,
Desert Stars,
Spandau Ballet,
Arab on Radar,
Parry Music,
Skaos,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Real Kids,
New Order,
Dave Gahan,
Lyres,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
The Associates,
Shuggie Otis,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stetsasonic,
Kenny Larkin,
Dorothy Ashby,
Surgeon,
Pierre Henry,
Amon Düül,
R.M.O.,
The Music Machine,
Sugar Minott,
Tommy Roe,
The Move,
Loose Ends,
The Dirtbombs,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.