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 Monaco and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Winnipeg.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Albert Ayler 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Funkadelic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Spandau Ballet,
Crispy Ambulance,
ABC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Porter Ricks,
Nils Olav,
Bad Manners,
Loose Ends,
Underground Resistance,
Brick,
Minor Threat,
The Associates,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Electric Prunes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Searchers,
Al Stewart,
Barclay James Harvest,
Marvin Gaye,
The Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Parry Music,
Visage,
Schoolly D,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brass Construction,
Excepter,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Soul II Soul,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mark Hollis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Blossom Toes,
Essential Logic,
Anthony Braxton,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Christie,
Freddie Wadling,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tommy Roe,
Dennis Brown,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Accadde A,
Pierre Henry,
The Music Machine,
Mandrill,
Moebius,
Janne Schatter,
Television Personalities,
Infiniti,
Jacques Brel,
New York Dolls,
Bush Tetras,
Avey Tare,
The Dead C,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.