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 Iceland and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 The Toasters to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Echo & the Bunnymen. All the underground hits.
All Parry Music tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Patti Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Aloha Tigers,
Peter & Gordon,
Interpol,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boredoms,
Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Prince Buster,
Nick Fraelich,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Con Funk Shun,
Flamin' Groovies,
Marc Almond,
Minor Threat,
K-Klass,
Black Flag,
Swell Maps,
Sun City Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
Black Moon,
Organ,
Heaven 17,
Robert Görl,
Soul Sonic Force,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Wyatt,
Darondo,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Grass Roots,
Scientists,
Rekid,
Idris Muhammad,
Albert Ayler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Skriet,
The Buckinghams,
Brand Nubian,
the Normal,
The Kinks,
The Slits,
In Retrospect,
Accadde A,
The Blues Magoos,
Pylon,
Harmonia,
Masters at Work,
Joensuu 1685,
Archie Shepp,
Q and Not U,
Guru Guru,
Hashim,
The Motions,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.