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 Slovakia and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum 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 Robert Görl 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 Talk Talk. All the underground hits.
All Fluxion tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks 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?
X-Ray Spex,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
Jandek,
Liliput,
John Holt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bush Tetras,
Pole,
Minutemen,
Sandy B,
Pulsallama,
The Angels of Light,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roxy Music,
Blancmange,
The Monks,
Agent Orange,
The J.B.'s,
Juan Atkins,
Sixth Finger,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Skarface,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Deakin,
Talk Talk,
The Gladiators,
Wire,
The Stooges,
Junior Murvin,
The Velvet Underground,
Kool Moe Dee,
Echospace,
The Offenders,
Boredoms,
Lakeside,
Derrick Morgan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Fatback Band,
Black Pus,
Judy Mowatt,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Anakelly,
Slick Rick,
Amazonics,
Sugar Minott,
The Monochrome Set,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Can,
Loose Ends,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Toni Rubio,
Neil Young,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ice-T,
Ossler,
Visage,
The Mojo Men,
Piero Umiliani,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.