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 Gabon and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 Blake Baxter to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Subhumans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Agent Orange,
June Days,
The Raincoats,
The Human League,
Unrelated Segments,
In Retrospect,
The Black Dice,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Saints,
The Gladiators,
Heaven 17,
Bootsy Collins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jeru the Damaja,
Panda Bear,
The Divine Comedy,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Mighty Diamonds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Stooges,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
a-ha,
Jawbox,
Pierre Henry,
Reuben Wilson,
This Heat,
Agitation Free,
U.S. Maple,
Mark Hollis,
The Zeros,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minor Threat,
Throbbing Gristle,
D'Angelo,
Electric Prunes,
Funky Four + One,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Pus,
The Fortunes,
Yellowson,
Crash Course in Science,
Suicide,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Youth Brigade,
Crime,
Rekid,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Goldenarms,
Animal Collective,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Amon Düül II,
Second Layer,
Silicon Teens,
Siglo XX,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gun Club,
Alphaville,
Fatback Band,
Icehouse,
Robert Wyatt,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.