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 Syria and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Crooked Eye,
The Real Kids,
Nirvana,
The Doobie Brothers,
La Düsseldorf,
Swell Maps,
The Detroit Cobras,
ABBA,
B.T. Express,
Parry Music,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lee Hazlewood,
Absolute Body Control,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Loose Ends,
Freddie Wadling,
MDC,
China Crisis,
Stockholm Monsters,
Pylon,
The Selecter,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Doors,
Black Bananas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Gap Band,
Outsiders,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronan,
Niagra,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Maleditus Sound,
In Retrospect,
the Slits,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Kerri Chandler,
Harry Pussy,
The Mummies,
Letta Mbulu,
Jeff Mills,
the Bar-Kays,
Vladislav Delay,
DJ Sneak,
Man Parrish,
The Grass Roots,
Can,
James White and The Blacks,
The Star Department,
The Five Americans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bootsy Collins,
R.M.O.,
Bob Dylan,
Ultimate Spinach,
This Heat,
Sandy B,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lou Christie,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.