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 Belgium and from Milan.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe 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 Bill Near to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
Severed Heads,
The Gories,
Matthew Bourne,
Malaria!,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hot Snakes,
The Skatalites,
Wally Richardson,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
David Axelrod,
Godley & Creme,
Sex Pistols,
Nirvana,
The Slits,
F. McDonald,
The Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
Lee Hazlewood,
Deadbeat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Patti Smith,
L. Decosne,
Mad Mike,
Pharoah Sanders,
David McCallum,
Interpol,
Warsaw,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Last Poets,
Bootsy Collins,
The Blues Magoos,
Harmonia,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Normal,
Avey Tare,
Marcia Griffiths,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Janne Schatter,
Roy Ayers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Parrish,
New York Dolls,
The Cure,
Ornette Coleman,
The Fire Engines,
Maurizio,
John Holt,
Warren Ellis,
The Monochrome Set,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Pus,
Mary Jane Girls,
Howard Jones,
Moby Grape,
Y Pants,
Pussy Galore,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Chris & Cosey,
Connie Case,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.