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 Malta and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 Remains to the jazz 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scan 7,
Nas,
Hashim,
Gang Green,
Mad Mike,
Max Romeo,
Patti Smith,
Wally Richardson,
John Foxx,
Marine Girls,
Magazine,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ken Boothe,
Soft Cell,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Babytalk,
Robert Hood,
B.T. Express,
Bang On A Can,
H. Thieme,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Groovy Waters,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Joy Division,
Dead Boys,
The Beau Brummels,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Derrick May,
The Blackbyrds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Stockholm Monsters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mr. Review,
Mark Hollis,
Sister Nancy,
Oneida,
Zapp,
Ten City,
Arcadia,
Icehouse,
DNA,
The Doobie Brothers,
Black Moon,
Agent Orange,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Buzzcocks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Negative Approach,
The Wake,
the Swans,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Pantaleimon,
Davy DMX,
Scientists,
Ronan,
Scrapy,
Whodini,
Excepter,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.