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 Comoros and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 oboe 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 Stooges to the electroclash 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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Graham Central Station,
the Soft Cell,
The American Breed,
Amazonics,
Accadde A,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Babytalk,
Con Funk Shun,
Kevin Saunderson,
Parry Music,
Anthony Braxton,
Inner City,
Sonic Youth,
Joensuu 1685,
Kenny Larkin,
Tres Demented,
Nirvana,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brick,
David Bowie,
The Evens,
The Beau Brummels,
Dark Day,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Five Americans,
Bill Near,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fela Kuti,
X-101,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
David Axelrod,
The Music Machine,
Suicide,
Josef K,
Absolute Body Control,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Görl,
Bootsy Collins,
Rakim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marine Girls,
Man Parrish,
Michelle Simonal,
Whodini,
Agent Orange,
Jeru the Damaja,
Skaos,
Carl Craig,
Sister Nancy,
Surgeon,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Cramps,
Ken Boothe,
The Blues Magoos,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.