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 Mauritius and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the oboe 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the electroclash 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 Moebius. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 New Age Steppers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The Busters,
Ohio Players,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sandy B,
Supertramp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
a-ha,
The Barracudas,
Sister Nancy,
Hot Snakes,
Pylon,
Inner City,
Erykah Badu,
Accadde A,
Eli Mardock,
Joy Division,
Max Romeo,
Faust,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pantaleimon,
The Monks,
Minor Threat,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Blues Magoos,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding,
Black Flag,
Drexciya,
Howard Jones,
Crime,
Fugazi,
Marcia Griffiths,
X-102,
Piero Umiliani,
La Düsseldorf,
Moss Icon,
Sonny Sharrock,
Unrelated Segments,
X-Ray Spex,
Black Sheep,
Deepchord,
Delta 5,
Section 25,
Roy Ayers,
Saccharine Trust,
Sound Behaviour,
Johnny Clarke,
Eve St. Jones,
Juan Atkins,
Carl Craig,
Theoretical Girls,
The Skatalites,
Mission of Burma,
Eric B and Rakim,
John Foxx,
Interpol,
The Cramps,
Magazine,
Anthony Braxton,
Excepter,
Warren Ellis,
Pulsallama,
The Mummies,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.