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 Laos and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb 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 Smog to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Slick Rick. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Age Steppers,
Archie Shepp,
The Invisible,
Wings,
Marvin Gaye,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Motions,
Frankie Knuckles,
Judy Mowatt,
David Bowie,
Barry Ungar,
Roxy Music,
H. Thieme,
Index,
Flipper,
The Fugs,
Black Pus,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Velvet Underground,
Depeche Mode,
Faraquet,
Byron Stingily,
The Wake,
Brothers Johnson,
Newcleus,
Angry Samoans,
Scan 7,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Association,
Neu!,
Aaron Thompson,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Vogues,
John Coltrane,
Gichy Dan,
The Divine Comedy,
Stereo Dub,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Michelle Simonal,
Babytalk,
The Raincoats,
Fatback Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Donald Byrd,
Ituana,
Sarah Menescal,
Cybotron,
Lee Hazlewood,
OOIOO,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pussy Galore,
Jeff Lynne,
Camberwell Now,
Eric Copeland,
Danielle Patucci,
Pierre Henry,
Masters at Work,
Ponytail,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Brass Construction,
Chrome,
Soul Sonic Force,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.