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 Vietnam and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 F. McDonald to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All LL Cool J tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
T. Rex,
Sight & Sound,
The Mummies,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy Collins,
Excepter,
World's Most,
Erasure,
Monolake,
Blake Baxter,
The Real Kids,
Silicon Teens,
Massinfluence,
Lightning Bolt,
The Barracudas,
The Moleskins,
Clear Light,
The Index,
David Axelrod,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Nirvana,
Black Sheep,
The Doors,
Q and Not U,
The Pretty Things,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Fugs,
U.S. Maple,
Mary Jane Girls,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
La Düsseldorf,
Cheater Slicks,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Bananas,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jeff Mills,
Severed Heads,
Amazonics,
Bobby Womack,
Absolute Body Control,
Dennis Brown,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Swans,
Angry Samoans,
Charles Mingus,
Eli Mardock,
Tears for Fears,
The American Breed,
Boz Scaggs,
Shuggie Otis,
Model 500,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pantytec,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.