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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Grey Daturas to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
June of 44,
The Grass Roots,
Marine Girls,
Half Japanese,
Flipper,
Oneida,
Babytalk,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
T.S.O.L.,
Clear Light,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Adolescents,
Q and Not U,
New York Dolls,
Siglo XX,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Eric Dolphy,
June Days,
Andrew Hill,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jeru the Damaja,
48th St. Collective,
Throbbing Gristle,
Hoover,
The Blackbyrds,
Fatback Band,
The Cramps,
Johnny Clarke,
Lou Reed,
John Holt,
Swell Maps,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wasted Youth,
The Sound,
Bluetip,
Faraquet,
Gang Starr,
Glenn Branca,
The Zeros,
Gichy Dan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Names,
Arcadia,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Brothers Johnson,
Darondo,
The Busters,
Grandmaster Flash,
FM Einheit,
This Heat,
the Germs,
Grauzone,
Sex Pistols,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sexual Harrassment,
Joensuu 1685,
Anakelly,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.