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 San Marino and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Kurtis Blow to the grime 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chrome 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television Personalities,
Fatback Band,
Royal Trux,
The Star Department,
Malaria!,
Franke,
Sex Pistols,
Harpers Bizarre,
Fad Gadget,
Gong,
The Zeros,
Bluetip,
Lalo Schifrin,
Surgeon,
Lyres,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Saints,
Bootsy Collins,
Crime,
Pantytec,
John Holt,
World's Most,
Lower 48,
Magazine,
Wire,
Bad Manners,
Neu!,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Normal,
Terry Callier,
Rakim,
Quadrant,
The Evens,
Steve Hackett,
Crispian St. Peters,
Henry Cow,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Derrick Morgan,
Throbbing Gristle,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Gladiators,
Aural Exciters,
These Immortal Souls,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Von Mondo,
Rites of Spring,
Scratch Acid,
Shuggie Otis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vladislav Delay,
The Monks,
Radio Birdman,
Cluster,
The Kinks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Stiv Bators,
Outsiders,
Ultravox,
Half Japanese,
Flipper,
Kayak,
Mo-Dettes,
Subhumans,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.