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 Bhutan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 guitar 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aswad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Roy Ayers,
Erasure,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fire Engines,
The Human League,
Flipper,
Young Marble Giants,
Qualms,
Harry Pussy,
The American Breed,
The Pretty Things,
New Age Steppers,
Chrome,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
It's A Beautiful Day,
R.M.O.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Arcadia,
Ronan,
Popol Vuh,
Hasil Adkins,
Ohio Players,
Quando Quango,
Marcia Griffiths,
Los Fastidios,
Stockholm Monsters,
DJ Sneak,
The Dirtbombs,
Severed Heads,
Junior Murvin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Radiohead,
Donny Hathaway,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brass Construction,
Das Ding,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Scott Walker,
Marine Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soulsonic Force,
Judy Mowatt,
John Cale,
Simply Red,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Saccharine Trust,
Negative Approach,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
June Days,
Wolf Eyes,
Camberwell Now,
Derrick Morgan,
The Neon Judgement,
Byron Stingily,
Shoche,
Pere Ubu,
Q65,
The Smiths,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.