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 Guatemala and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the rap 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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
B.T. Express,
Kenny Larkin,
L. Decosne,
Peter & Gordon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crispy Ambulance,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Fraelich,
Delta 5,
Morten Harket,
Scrapy,
Crooked Eye,
Matthew Bourne,
The Birthday Party,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Intrusion,
Ten City,
The Mummies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boredoms,
Excepter,
Jimmy McGriff,
JFA,
Gabor Szabo,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Wally Richardson,
AZ,
The Divine Comedy,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Saccharine Trust,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smoke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Smog,
CMW,
Black Bananas,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Blossom Toes,
The Real Kids,
Fela Kuti,
Sight & Sound,
Japan,
Eve St. Jones,
Cheater Slicks,
Sister Nancy,
Prince Buster,
the Slits,
Procol Harum,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Reagan Youth,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.