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 Equatorial Guinea and from Jakarta.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Joey Negro to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
Quando Quango,
Japan,
The Red Krayola,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ituana,
La Düsseldorf,
Rekid,
The Raincoats,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sonics,
Stereo Dub,
Fat Boys,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dennis Brown,
Rapeman,
Simply Red,
Bang On A Can,
Pierre Henry,
Kenny Larkin,
Unrelated Segments,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Trumans Water,
The Beau Brummels,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
Bronski Beat,
World's Most,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Niagra,
The Cowsills,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kurtis Blow,
Wings,
The Slits,
Monks,
A Certain Ratio,
X-102,
The Saints,
Bad Manners,
John Cale,
Scrapy,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Toasters,
R.M.O.,
Inner City,
H. Thieme,
The Pop Group,
The Index,
Prince Buster,
Make Up,
Big Daddy Kane,
Tres Demented,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roger Hodgson,
Sex Pistols,
The Move,
Underground Resistance,
Gang Gang Dance,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.