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 Netherlands and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ituana. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barbara Tucker record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Magma,
Fat Boys,
Saccharine Trust,
Brothers Johnson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Underground Resistance,
Jawbox,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Fugazi,
Siglo XX,
Fela Kuti,
Roger Hodgson,
The Last Poets,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Suburban Knight,
Connie Case,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harry Pussy,
Crispian St. Peters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Supertramp,
Lou Christie,
Yusef Lateef,
Blake Baxter,
Bang On A Can,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Slits,
Ludus,
Dead Boys,
The Cure,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Prunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wire,
Slave,
Donny Hathaway,
John Lydon,
Thee Headcoats,
Sound Behaviour,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Sonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
Audionom,
Hasil Adkins,
Essential Logic,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Vogues,
Ten City,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Alison Limerick,
The Searchers,
Sun Ra,
Gang Green,
The Dirtbombs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scientists,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.