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 Malawi and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter & Gordon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerri Chandler,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Normal,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Arthur Verocai,
Judy Mowatt,
Lungfish,
Royal Trux,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roger Hodgson,
Model 500,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Iggy Pop,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scott Walker,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jacques Brel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Peter and Kerry,
Aswad,
Wasted Youth,
Pylon,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
L. Decosne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang of Four,
Suicide,
Rod Modell,
Tomorrow,
Nick Fraelich,
Henry Cow,
Drive Like Jehu,
FM Einheit,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Fuzztones,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick May,
Spoonie Gee,
Susan Cadogan,
The Skatalites,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Symarip,
Sound Behaviour,
These Immortal Souls,
Sarah Menescal,
Tim Buckley,
Los Fastidios,
T. Rex,
Tears for Fears,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Barbara Tucker,
Bang On A Can,
The Offenders,
Charles Mingus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.