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 Mongolia and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marmalade to the rock 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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Electric Prunes,
The Martian,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bush Tetras,
The Fuzztones,
New Age Steppers,
Intrusion,
Jeru the Damaja,
Brothers Johnson,
The Remains,
The Music Machine,
AZ,
Mo-Dettes,
cv313,
MC5,
Minor Threat,
Rapeman,
Black Pus,
Monolake,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Slits,
Grandmaster Flash,
Aswad,
The Cure,
Gang of Four,
Flash Fearless,
Carl Craig,
Make Up,
Quadrant,
Wings,
Quantec,
The Searchers,
Trumans Water,
Jesper Dahlback,
Piero Umiliani,
David Bowie,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sparks,
Stereo Dub,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Smoke,
Marmalade,
KRS-One,
Eli Mardock,
The Leaves,
Tommy Roe,
Audionom,
Public Image Ltd.,
Panda Bear,
Idris Muhammad,
Jacques Brel,
Fat Boys,
the Germs,
Minnie Riperton,
Nils Olav,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.