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 Pakistan and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the electroclash 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum 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 Doors,
John Lydon,
World's Most,
Metal Thangz,
Warsaw,
Sun City Girls,
Ice-T,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Reuben Wilson,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jimmy McGriff,
X-Ray Spex,
The Seeds,
The Fire Engines,
Terrestrial Tones,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Electric Prunes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bootsy Collins,
Alice Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Animal Collective,
Schoolly D,
Ken Boothe,
Negative Approach,
the Human League,
Eddi Front,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Marmalade,
Fat Boys,
Chrome,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Gories,
Sam Rivers,
The Alarm Clocks,
The American Breed,
The Gun Club,
Country Teasers,
Infiniti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fatback Band,
kango's stein massive,
Isaac Hayes,
Minnie Riperton,
U.S. Maple,
Sonic Youth,
Mo-Dettes,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eli Mardock,
Dawn Penn,
James White and The Blacks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Supertramp,
Agitation Free,
Brass Construction,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Index,
Nico,
Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman, Rapeman.
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.