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 Rwanda and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 guitar 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 ABBA to the grime 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Franke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pere Ubu,
David Axelrod,
The Trojans,
Ultra Naté,
The Litter,
Slave,
The Gladiators,
The Human League,
Mission of Burma,
Moss Icon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ronnie Foster,
Prince Buster,
Young Marble Giants,
Yellowson,
The Dirtbombs,
Marmalade,
Marvin Gaye,
FM Einheit,
John Lydon,
Eric B and Rakim,
JFA,
Vladislav Delay,
The American Breed,
Minor Threat,
Arab on Radar,
8 Eyed Spy,
F. McDonald,
Pussy Galore,
The Mummies,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonic Youth,
Motorama,
Crispy Ambulance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
James White and The Blacks,
Dual Sessions,
Schoolly D,
Von Mondo,
Zapp,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The New Christs,
Maleditus Sound,
Crime,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeff Lynne,
Unrelated Segments,
X-102,
John Coltrane,
Stereo Dub,
Boz Scaggs,
Kurtis Blow,
Supertramp,
Sugar Minott,
Angry Samoans,
Subhumans,
Unwound,
Pantytec,
Scion,
Al Stewart,
New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls, New York Dolls.
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.