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 Russia and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Traffic Nightmare to the disco 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Camberwell Now,
Easy Going,
The Alarm Clocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Hood,
Barrington Levy,
The Martian,
Spoonie Gee,
Letta Mbulu,
Black Pus,
New Age Steppers,
Schoolly D,
Zapp,
Carl Craig,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pylon,
The Monks,
Alphaville,
David McCallum,
Lower 48,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Cramps,
Traffic Nightmare,
Agitation Free,
Ken Boothe,
Colin Newman,
Judy Mowatt,
Yaz,
Grauzone,
This Heat,
Funky Four + One,
Anthony Braxton,
Amon Düül II,
Sex Pistols,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Smoke,
ABC,
The Residents,
X-102,
Cecil Taylor,
Clear Light,
Delon & Dalcan,
Depeche Mode,
Morten Harket,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Tubeway Army,
Minnie Riperton,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Neon Judgement,
Black Bananas,
Chris Corsano,
Sandy B,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Vogues,
Whodini,
Harry Pussy,
Boredoms,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Lungfish,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.