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 San Marino and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Mission of Burma to the grime 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 Deepchord. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Magazine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Essential Logic,
Faraquet,
Negative Approach,
X-102,
Wings,
Shuggie Otis,
The Dead C,
Hoover,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sound Behaviour,
The Gap Band,
The Misunderstood,
Soul Sonic Force,
Von Mondo,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Starr,
Eurythmics,
The New Christs,
Skarface,
Cameo,
Easy Going,
The Sonics,
Pagans,
Scion,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Moby Grape,
Magma,
OOIOO,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bill Near,
The Slackers,
La Düsseldorf,
Scrapy,
Nico,
Donald Byrd,
Heaven 17,
Boz Scaggs,
Crispy Ambulance,
David Axelrod,
Grauzone,
Public Enemy,
Jeff Mills,
Freddie Wadling,
Spandau Ballet,
The Barracudas,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
Harry Pussy,
Peter & Gordon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Alice Coltrane,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Angels of Light,
The Invisible,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.