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 Congo and from Salvador.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Kenny Larkin to the dance 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Names tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Peter & Gordon,
MC5,
The Moody Blues,
Thompson Twins,
Eli Mardock,
Derrick Morgan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Man Parrish,
The Neon Judgement,
Malaria!,
Pere Ubu,
Ronan,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vainqueur,
Zero Boys,
The Monks,
The Wake,
Altered Images,
Pierre Henry,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Suburban Knight,
Mars,
Judy Mowatt,
Sandy B,
Crispy Ambulance,
Camouflage,
Henry Cow,
X-101,
Harry Pussy,
Quadrant,
Second Layer,
Rakim,
The Pretty Things,
The Dirtbombs,
Ultravox,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Johnny Clarke,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dennis Brown,
New Order,
Q65,
EPMD,
Chris & Cosey,
Rotary Connection,
F. McDonald,
Agitation Free,
The Kinks,
The Stooges,
Trumans Water,
Desert Stars,
Jeff Mills,
Brass Construction,
Bluetip,
Harmonia,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.