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 Cyprus and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Panda Bear 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Au Pairs 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?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radiohead,
Ultravox,
Crash Course in Science,
Bob Dylan,
Mission of Burma,
Gang Starr,
Black Bananas,
Matthew Bourne,
Johnny Clarke,
Gang of Four,
DJ Style,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
The Toasters,
Josef K,
Gregory Isaacs,
Scott Walker,
A Certain Ratio,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
the Slits,
Blancmange,
Roger Hodgson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
DJ Sneak,
Masters at Work,
Au Pairs,
The Move,
Big Daddy Kane,
Outsiders,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tomorrow,
The Black Dice,
Massinfluence,
The Real Kids,
Eric B and Rakim,
Surgeon,
Suicide,
Monks,
Henry Cow,
Eli Mardock,
Cameo,
Rekid,
Quantec,
Black Pus,
John Holt,
Flipper,
Scan 7,
Gichy Dan,
Todd Terry,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Boz Scaggs,
The Birthday Party,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Television Personalities,
Rapeman,
Interpol,
Blake Baxter,
The Skatalites,
The Gories,
Monolake,
Pussy Galore,
The Dead C,
The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders, The Offenders.
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.