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 Honduras and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Beijing.
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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu 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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
Simply Red,
The Sound,
Pole,
Colin Newman,
Drive Like Jehu,
Smog,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Can,
Matthew Halsall,
The Human League,
The Walker Brothers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dead Boys,
Pere Ubu,
the Swans,
Danielle Patucci,
Neil Young,
Sugar Minott,
David Bowie,
Malaria!,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
8 Eyed Spy,
Judy Mowatt,
Warsaw,
The Monks,
Harmonia,
Throbbing Gristle,
Popol Vuh,
The Gap Band,
Whodini,
Scan 7,
Fear,
The Smoke,
Glenn Branca,
John Holt,
Rakim,
This Heat,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Hood,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Mills,
Black Moon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
World's Most,
The Associates,
Funkadelic,
Radiohead,
Skarface,
Dave Gahan,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Interpol,
Robert Wyatt,
The Blues Magoos,
Franke,
Fat Boys,
Slave,
OOIOO,
Electric Prunes,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.