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 Antigua and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 synthesizer 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 Piero Umiliani to the grime 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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
The Angels of Light,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Doobie Brothers,
Skriet,
Dead Boys,
Model 500,
Yusef Lateef,
Harmonia,
R.M.O.,
Swans,
Theoretical Girls,
Scott Walker,
Swell Maps,
Pagans,
Robert Wyatt,
F. McDonald,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
the Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Howard Jones,
Ultravox,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rekid,
Idris Muhammad,
The Evens,
Quando Quango,
Pantytec,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marvin Gaye,
Bootsy Collins,
Mantronix,
ABC,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
DJ Style,
Magma,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
In Retrospect,
8 Eyed Spy,
Albert Ayler,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Roy Ayers,
Hardrive,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Byron Stingily,
Babytalk,
Altered Images,
LL Cool J,
Nirvana,
Clear Light,
Adolescents,
The Red Krayola,
Average White Band,
Slave,
Gil Scott Heron,
Big Daddy Kane,
Brothers Johnson,
Delta 5,
Cymande,
Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar, Arab on Radar.
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.