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 Kuwait and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 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 The Smiths to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Japan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Leaves,
The Remains,
Mr. Review,
Ludus,
Stereo Dub,
The Evens,
Max Romeo,
Lou Christie,
Sandy B,
Dual Sessions,
Slick Rick,
T. Rex,
Todd Terry,
Black Moon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Little Man,
Alphaville,
Yazoo,
Arthur Verocai,
Matthew Halsall,
The Music Machine,
Pole,
Average White Band,
Pagans,
Scientists,
Wally Richardson,
Scion,
JFA,
The J.B.'s,
Soft Cell,
Ornette Coleman,
Sam Rivers,
Goldenarms,
Eric Dolphy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Juan Atkins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Big Daddy Kane,
Crispian St. Peters,
Swans,
Scrapy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Offenders,
cv313,
Piero Umiliani,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
June Days,
Scratch Acid,
Bob Dylan,
Mo-Dettes,
The Litter,
Babytalk,
These Immortal Souls,
The Names,
Camouflage,
The Tremeloes,
Motorama,
Newcleus,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.