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 Croatia and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 The Kinks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Soft Cell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
U.S. Maple,
Q and Not U,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Derrick Morgan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Interpol,
Public Enemy,
The Barracudas,
Letta Mbulu,
Pagans,
The Angels of Light,
Pulsallama,
Main Source,
Hardrive,
The Blackbyrds,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kerri Chandler,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Royal Trux,
The Moleskins,
Josef K,
Angry Samoans,
Joyce Sims,
Pierre Henry,
Gabor Szabo,
Urselle,
Robert Wyatt,
Parry Music,
Amon Düül II,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Surgeon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Drexciya,
Deepchord,
Scott Walker,
the Soft Cell,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rapeman,
Dark Day,
Wally Richardson,
Procol Harum,
Barrington Levy,
Jerry's Kids,
Dead Boys,
Niagra,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sparks,
Boredoms,
Echospace,
The Monks,
Groovy Waters,
Organ,
John Holt,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eli Mardock,
Deakin,
Absolute Body Control,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.