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 Tuvalu and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 mellotron 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 Amon Düül II to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Flipper,
Deakin,
Bob Dylan,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Robert Hood,
Sight & Sound,
Aloha Tigers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quantec,
Scratch Acid,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
Robert Wyatt,
Inner City,
Yaz,
Charles Mingus,
The Buckinghams,
La Düsseldorf,
Susan Cadogan,
The Durutti Column,
The Mummies,
Peter and Kerry,
the Association,
FM Einheit,
Joe Finger,
Can,
Jerry's Kids,
Gastr Del Sol,
Freddie Wadling,
Slave,
Sixth Finger,
Barclay James Harvest,
Mars,
Marvin Gaye,
Sarah Menescal,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Martian,
Wasted Youth,
Technova,
The Neon Judgement,
Hardrive,
The Fortunes,
Yazoo,
Andrew Hill,
The Sound,
Deadbeat,
Quando Quango,
The Evens,
Aswad,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jawbox,
Blake Baxter,
Donald Byrd,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Saccharine Trust,
Fad Gadget,
Whodini,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.