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 Turkmenistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Philadelphia and Salvador.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All Godley & Creme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alison Limerick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Piero Umiliani,
Can,
Brick,
Gichy Dan,
The Index,
The Evens,
Rites of Spring,
June of 44,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Guru Guru,
The Pop Group,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Parry Music,
Kaleidoscope,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Joy Division,
David Axelrod,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Young Rascals,
Spoonie Gee,
Ponytail,
Livin' Joy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Leonard Cohen,
Slave,
Saccharine Trust,
Aswad,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Lydon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nico,
Stockholm Monsters,
Albert Ayler,
Todd Terry,
Blancmange,
June Days,
Camouflage,
The Searchers,
Anthony Braxton,
The Leaves,
Carl Craig,
Sonny Sharrock,
DNA,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Judy Mowatt,
Jesper Dahlback,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Curtis Mayfield,
Wire,
Massinfluence,
Desert Stars,
Joe Finger,
Marine Girls,
Eurythmics,
The Gun Club,
Cameo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pantaleimon,
Ituana,
Bang On A Can,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family, Angels of Light & Akron/Family.
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.