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 Kenya and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Robert Palmer 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blackbyrds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Maurizio,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
Anthony Braxton,
X-101,
Dave Gahan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pussy Galore,
Jeff Mills,
The Vogues,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Thee Headcoats,
Thompson Twins,
Country Teasers,
Kayak,
Robert Wyatt,
Whodini,
Bang On A Can,
Babytalk,
The Names,
Ice-T,
Cheater Slicks,
Alphaville,
Glambeats Corp.,
the Slits,
Bobby Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tubeway Army,
Wolf Eyes,
Buzzcocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Gang Green,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Star Department,
The Associates,
Hashim,
the Germs,
Eli Mardock,
Janne Schatter,
Drexciya,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Buckinghams,
The Saints,
Urselle,
Robert Görl,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Red Krayola,
Underground Resistance,
L. Decosne,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lee Hazlewood,
Make Up,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crispian St. Peters,
Colin Newman,
Radiohead,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.