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 Sri Lanka and from Paris.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Young Marble Giants to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Porter Ricks,
Charles Mingus,
David Axelrod,
Eurythmics,
Absolute Body Control,
Mantronix,
Moby Grape,
T. Rex,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Dirtbombs,
Buzzcocks,
Von Mondo,
Eddi Front,
Idris Muhammad,
X-Ray Spex,
Pylon,
Goldenarms,
The Star Department,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Dennis Brown,
Henry Cow,
Jacques Brel,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Black Flag,
Hardrive,
Crash Course in Science,
The Music Machine,
The Electric Prunes,
Steve Hackett,
the Association,
F. McDonald,
Lungfish,
Malaria!,
Sonic Youth,
Nils Olav,
Infiniti,
The Names,
Joyce Sims,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Teasers,
Half Japanese,
Minny Pops,
Symarip,
Ultravox,
Little Man,
Jeru the Damaja,
OOIOO,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Remains,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare,
The Kinks,
Liliput,
Anthony Braxton,
Lakeside,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Camberwell Now,
Silicon Teens,
The Residents,
Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez, Eden Ahbez.
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.