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 Philippines and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Cabaret Voltaire to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Wasted Youth,
Mr. Review,
Skarface,
Janne Schatter,
La Düsseldorf,
Stereo Dub,
Mars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Yusef Lateef,
Severed Heads,
Neil Young,
Marine Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Harry Pussy,
Letta Mbulu,
the Germs,
Gichy Dan,
Andrew Hill,
Cal Tjader,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fall,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jeff Lynne,
Lalo Schifrin,
Cameo,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stiv Bators,
Quadrant,
Outsiders,
Glenn Branca,
Eric Copeland,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Essential Logic,
Q and Not U,
The Doors,
Grauzone,
Funkadelic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mark Hollis,
Charles Mingus,
Cybotron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Music Machine,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sarah Menescal,
Con Funk Shun,
Brass Construction,
Intrusion,
Index,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Procol Harum,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Silicon Teens,
KRS-One,
Yaz,
Deakin,
New Order,
the Bar-Kays,
Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars, Desert Stars.
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.