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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Joy Division,
Technova,
Lee Hazlewood,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Silicon Teens,
Junior Murvin,
Davy DMX,
In Retrospect,
JFA,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dead Boys,
Malaria!,
Reagan Youth,
Anthony Braxton,
Sixth Finger,
Marc Almond,
Black Pus,
Pulsallama,
Quantec,
Franke,
June Days,
Scott Walker,
The Dead C,
Jimmy McGriff,
Goldenarms,
Buzzcocks,
Pylon,
Magazine,
Depeche Mode,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
John Lydon,
Arthur Verocai,
Darondo,
Wasted Youth,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Moody Blues,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Flesh Eaters,
Pere Ubu,
The Fugs,
Tomorrow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Niagra,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Offenders,
Girls At Our Best!,
Aural Exciters,
the Germs,
Man Eating Sloth,
Basic Channel,
Alton Ellis,
The Saints,
Unwound,
Radiohead,
Minutemen,
Peter & Gordon,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sex Pistols,
Sonny Sharrock,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.