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 Iceland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 theremin 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 Second Layer to the crunk 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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Yusef Lateef,
Slick Rick,
cv313,
China Crisis,
David Bowie,
Alice Coltrane,
Johnny Clarke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ornette Coleman,
The Young Rascals,
Gerry Rafferty,
A Certain Ratio,
Icehouse,
Country Teasers,
Inner City,
Lower 48,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Spandau Ballet,
Marine Girls,
Al Stewart,
Arcadia,
Heaven 17,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angry Samoans,
Connie Case,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Half Japanese,
Jandek,
F. McDonald,
Michelle Simonal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kerri Chandler,
Deakin,
Soft Machine,
The Techniques,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kenny Larkin,
Loose Ends,
Altered Images,
Nation of Ulysses,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Surgeon,
the Normal,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio,
Rekid,
Porter Ricks,
Ossler,
Albert Ayler,
Circle Jerks,
The Dirtbombs,
The Motions,
The Stooges,
Public Image Ltd.,
Nik Kershaw,
The Monks,
Thee Headcoats,
Delon & Dalcan,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Parry Music,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.