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 Bulgaria and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Faraquet to the rap 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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Dennis Brown,
Connie Case,
Ronan,
Inner City,
The Gories,
Tears for Fears,
E-Dancer,
Joensuu 1685,
Intrusion,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Saints,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sixth Finger,
Mars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Boz Scaggs,
The United States of America,
Soulsonic Force,
China Crisis,
The Red Krayola,
Peter and Kerry,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Minor Threat,
Can,
The Dirtbombs,
Lucky Dragons,
Barry Ungar,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marine Girls,
Johnny Osbourne,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Bananas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
One Last Wish,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Stereo Dub,
The Trojans,
Lou Christie,
Quantec,
Harry Pussy,
Nik Kershaw,
Black Pus,
Tom Boy,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ossler,
UT,
Blossom Toes,
Drexciya,
Organ,
Soul Sonic Force,
Deepchord,
Boredoms,
The Angels of Light,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sex Pistols,
the Bar-Kays,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tubeway Army,
Popol Vuh,
Warren Ellis,
Wolf Eyes,
F. McDonald,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.