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 Ethiopia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Seoul.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Brick to the jazz 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ultravox,
June of 44,
Glenn Branca,
Little Man,
The Fire Engines,
Erykah Badu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scratch Acid,
Bang On A Can,
Max Romeo,
Loose Ends,
Clear Light,
Soulsonic Force,
Pussy Galore,
Delon & Dalcan,
Blancmange,
The American Breed,
Reuben Wilson,
Smog,
Visage,
Pharoah Sanders,
Robert Görl,
Jacques Brel,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Donald Byrd,
Howard Jones,
Basic Channel,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Associates,
Animal Collective,
Morten Harket,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rosa Yemen,
The Misunderstood,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
James White and The Blacks,
Parry Music,
Magma,
John Lydon,
Chrome,
Flamin' Groovies,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
The Invisible,
cv313,
The Residents,
Junior Murvin,
Con Funk Shun,
Iggy Pop,
Yusef Lateef,
Roy Ayers,
Barrington Levy,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Susan Cadogan,
Von Mondo,
Minny Pops,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.