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 Singapore and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Albert Ayler to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Bush Tetras,
Funkadelic,
Drive Like Jehu,
Shuggie Otis,
Lou Reed,
Robert Wyatt,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Slits,
Boredoms,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Human League,
Howard Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Mantronix,
Eve St. Jones,
The Gap Band,
Neil Young,
Ronan,
Electric Prunes,
Audionom,
Althea and Donna,
Robert Görl,
James White and The Blacks,
One Last Wish,
Isaac Hayes,
Severed Heads,
Basic Channel,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Don Cherry,
Desert Stars,
Bob Dylan,
Rekid,
The Mummies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Loose Ends,
The Mojo Men,
Dual Sessions,
Vainqueur,
The Kinks,
Ultravox,
Moss Icon,
Lucky Dragons,
Archie Shepp,
Organ,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
The Evens,
Chris & Cosey,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Saints,
The Names,
Terry Callier,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Stiv Bators,
Trumans Water,
Crash Course in Science,
Eric Dolphy,
Pussy Galore,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.