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 the UAE and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 chamberlin 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 Amon Düül II to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
the Sonics,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ituana,
Drexciya,
Roy Ayers,
The Red Krayola,
Y Pants,
Gong,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
Kerri Chandler,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Dave Clark Five,
Little Man,
The Smiths,
Nas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Teasers,
Lindisfarne,
The Buckinghams,
Stockholm Monsters,
Davy DMX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Black Sheep,
Mandrill,
Beasts of Bourbon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Blancmange,
Spoonie Gee,
The Cure,
Joyce Sims,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cecil Taylor,
The Slackers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Tom Boy,
Andrew Hill,
Ossler,
Ultra Naté,
Arab on Radar,
Essential Logic,
Graham Central Station,
Lower 48,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barry Ungar,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
China Crisis,
Urselle,
Icehouse,
Kas Product,
Michelle Simonal,
Alphaville,
The Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
This Heat,
ABBA,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.