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 Qatar and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Blackbyrds to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
Funky Four + One,
Harmonia,
Skriet,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Max Romeo,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
T.S.O.L.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ludus,
James White and The Blacks,
The Residents,
Marshall Jefferson,
D'Angelo,
Pantaleimon,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fatback Band,
Scion,
Idris Muhammad,
Black Pus,
Fela Kuti,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Busters,
Lungfish,
The Music Machine,
Wire,
The Zeros,
Mo-Dettes,
Dead Boys,
T. Rex,
Jerry's Kids,
a-ha,
The Cramps,
Severed Heads,
Steve Hackett,
Oneida,
Roger Hodgson,
Robert Wyatt,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Soft Cell,
Sound Behaviour,
Carl Craig,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Gladiators,
Arcadia,
Swans,
OOIOO,
Delta 5,
Ossler,
DJ Style,
Juan Atkins,
Ice-T,
Oblivians,
UT,
Lindisfarne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.