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 Korea South and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 The Misunderstood to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gian Franco Pienzio. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sam Rivers,
Iggy Pop,
The Dirtbombs,
James White and The Blacks,
Spandau Ballet,
Lalann,
Eric Copeland,
Leonard Cohen,
Dead Boys,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
Clear Light,
Electric Prunes,
Al Stewart,
The New Christs,
the Normal,
Pagans,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wings,
Marmalade,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Black Moon,
Man Eating Sloth,
Guru Guru,
Rekid,
Scan 7,
CMW,
Eve St. Jones,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sight & Sound,
ABC,
Scratch Acid,
Lyres,
Connie Case,
Angry Samoans,
Technova,
Idris Muhammad,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
DJ Style,
Quadrant,
cv313,
Joe Finger,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jawbox,
Man Parrish,
Shuggie Otis,
The Last Poets,
The Sound,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Moleskins,
Malaria!,
Y Pants,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Rotary Connection,
Yusef Lateef,
Little Man,
Cybotron,
Darondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.