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 Russia and from Columbus.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Cowsills to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scratch Acid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Delon & Dalcan,
Grey Daturas,
The Saints,
Average White Band,
Soft Machine,
Television Personalities,
U.S. Maple,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wasted Youth,
the Bar-Kays,
Whodini,
Sonic Youth,
Marmalade,
The Beau Brummels,
Malaria!,
June of 44,
the Germs,
Chrome,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Invisible,
Bobby Byrd,
The Smoke,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nico,
Scratch Acid,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Smiths,
Soft Cell,
Johnny Clarke,
Aaron Thompson,
Crash Course in Science,
R.M.O.,
Lungfish,
The Tremeloes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Janne Schatter,
Trumans Water,
Cameo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Robert Wyatt,
Marine Girls,
Cecil Taylor,
Pierre Henry,
Siglo XX,
The Toasters,
Oblivians,
The Seeds,
Maurizio,
Smog,
Soulsonic Force,
The Gories,
The Martian,
Arab on Radar,
The Names,
Surgeon,
Faust,
Rufus Thomas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Black Dice,
Reagan Youth,
Freddie Wadling,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.