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 Benin and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Tokyo.
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 marimba 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slave record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Roy Ayers,
Dead Boys,
Lyres,
Derrick May,
The Cramps,
The Angels of Light,
Sparks,
Boredoms,
Pulsallama,
Chrome,
Gichy Dan,
Tim Buckley,
Bauhaus,
Avey Tare,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Real Kids,
The Birthday Party,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
The Index,
Quando Quango,
48th St. Collective,
Gong,
Fugazi,
Derrick Morgan,
The Blues Magoos,
Connie Case,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nico,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Camberwell Now,
The Blackbyrds,
Todd Rundgren,
E-Dancer,
Fluxion,
Panda Bear,
Khruangbin,
Bluetip,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ituana,
Al Stewart,
Piero Umiliani,
the Normal,
Blossom Toes,
Chris & Cosey,
The Vogues,
The Gladiators,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Golliwogs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pierre Henry,
Matthew Halsall,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Alison Limerick,
Schoolly D,
Toni Rubio,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.