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 Italy and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 synthesizer 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 Motorama to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Tres Demented. All the underground hits.
All Maurizio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry's Kids,
Ronnie Foster,
Faust,
Qualms,
Dave Gahan,
Robert Wyatt,
Kayak,
Stereo Dub,
John Holt,
Nation of Ulysses,
Circle Jerks,
Warsaw,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Surgeon,
The Sonics,
Faraquet,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Gichy Dan,
Sun City Girls,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang of Four,
The Blues Magoos,
Glenn Branca,
Eden Ahbez,
Bizarre Inc.,
Unwound,
The Wake,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Womack,
ABC,
Mission of Burma,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Index,
Japan,
Nas,
New York Dolls,
Fela Kuti,
Liliput,
Little Man,
Alphaville,
Laurel Aitken,
Scion,
Black Pus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Normal,
New Age Steppers,
Sam Rivers,
Morten Harket,
Maurizio,
Siglo XX,
Idris Muhammad,
Vladislav Delay,
the Human League,
Soft Machine,
Minutemen,
Porter Ricks,
The Skatalites,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.