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 St Lucia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 L. Decosne to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
The Seeds,
Severed Heads,
The Star Department,
The Names,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
OOIOO,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Zeros,
Dead Boys,
The Sonics,
A Certain Ratio,
the Bar-Kays,
Mark Hollis,
Ice-T,
June of 44,
Peter & Gordon,
Reagan Youth,
Sun City Girls,
James White and The Blacks,
Althea and Donna,
cv313,
Sight & Sound,
The Leaves,
Ossler,
Kenny Larkin,
X-101,
Sam Rivers,
Flipper,
Index,
Scion,
The Misunderstood,
Spoonie Gee,
H. Thieme,
Desert Stars,
The Last Poets,
Tim Buckley,
X-Ray Spex,
Procol Harum,
The Evens,
Funky Four + One,
Mandrill,
Youth Brigade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Inner City,
Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Adolescents,
Darondo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Fela Kuti,
Letta Mbulu,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Selecter,
Sister Nancy,
The Searchers,
Cameo,
Rekid,
Blancmange,
Nick Fraelich,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.