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 Israel and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Ituana 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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Brothers Johnson,
Minny Pops,
Bang On A Can,
Sonic Youth,
The Misunderstood,
Maleditus Sound,
Vainqueur,
Porter Ricks,
Barbara Tucker,
Bronski Beat,
Derrick May,
Rod Modell,
The Mojo Men,
The Human League,
Bobby Byrd,
Don Cherry,
The Invisible,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fugazi,
ABC,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pylon,
Harry Pussy,
Kaleidoscope,
Quantec,
Fluxion,
Gang Green,
The American Breed,
Lungfish,
Prince Buster,
EPMD,
Mad Mike,
Judy Mowatt,
The Young Rascals,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
F. McDonald,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Black Sheep,
Scrapy,
the Sonics,
Zero Boys,
Los Fastidios,
Pagans,
Charles Mingus,
Tim Buckley,
Groovy Waters,
Roy Ayers,
The Kinks,
Mission of Burma,
Shoche,
Connie Case,
Goldenarms,
Ultimate Spinach,
Severed Heads,
Deepchord,
Carl Craig,
Absolute Body Control,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
Scott Walker,
The Doors,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.