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 Italy and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Buzzcocks to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dual Sessions 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine 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?
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Monks,
The Fortunes,
Chris Corsano,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Don Cherry,
Y Pants,
Albert Ayler,
Ohio Players,
Patti Smith,
Model 500,
Frankie Knuckles,
Organ,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ken Boothe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gregory Isaacs,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Shadows of Knight,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Busters,
Sam Rivers,
The Slackers,
A Certain Ratio,
Steve Hackett,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scratch Acid,
Scrapy,
Sixth Finger,
Popol Vuh,
Kas Product,
Big Daddy Kane,
Television,
Scientists,
Severed Heads,
Pussy Galore,
Todd Rundgren,
Mad Mike,
Flash Fearless,
the Sonics,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jacob Miller,
Symarip,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Lyres,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Carl Craig,
Pantytec,
Minny Pops,
Scan 7,
the Bar-Kays,
Joey Negro,
The Martian,
Gabor Szabo,
The Angels of Light,
Hot Snakes,
Lakeside,
Harry Pussy,
Ralphi Rosario,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.