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 Haiti and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Pierre Henry to the jazz 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 John Holt. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oneida,
Swell Maps,
The Sonics,
Agitation Free,
Gong,
Cecil Taylor,
Y Pants,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tomorrow,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
the Swans,
Arthur Verocai,
Porter Ricks,
The Busters,
Accadde A,
Soft Cell,
The Moody Blues,
Fatback Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harry Pussy,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boredoms,
Iggy Pop,
Eden Ahbez,
The Human League,
Stetsasonic,
Dennis Brown,
Connie Case,
The Count Five,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Erasure,
Darondo,
Interpol,
Marcia Griffiths,
Warren Ellis,
Inner City,
Eve St. Jones,
Yaz,
U.S. Maple,
the Germs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mad Mike,
Silicon Teens,
Sexual Harrassment,
Maurizio,
Jerry's Kids,
James White and The Blacks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Blake Baxter,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tom Boy,
Audionom,
Eddi Front,
the Normal,
Judy Mowatt,
Symarip,
Soulsonic Force,
Ultimate Spinach,
Khruangbin,
The Doors, The Doors, The Doors, The Doors.
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.