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 Israel and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare 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 Stockholm Monsters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Piero Umiliani,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Görl,
the Germs,
Kayak,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare,
Scan 7,
Camberwell Now,
Glenn Branca,
Echospace,
Lalo Schifrin,
Drive Like Jehu,
Surgeon,
Harmonia,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Severed Heads,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drexciya,
Tim Buckley,
Quantec,
Monolake,
Aural Exciters,
Sister Nancy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Oblivians,
Peter and Kerry,
Mary Jane Girls,
Traffic Nightmare,
Iggy Pop,
H. Thieme,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Names,
The Walker Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Deadbeat,
Magma,
Ken Boothe,
The Saints,
Johnny Osbourne,
Niagra,
The Zeros,
The Evens,
Man Parrish,
Freddie Wadling,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Pus,
Theoretical Girls,
Lungfish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Reagan Youth,
Talk Talk,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ultra Naté,
Television,
Nick Fraelich,
Wolf Eyes,
Eric Copeland,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sonny Sharrock,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.