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 Sierra Leone and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Country Joe & The Fish to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marvin Gaye,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scan 7,
Suicide,
The Fire Engines,
Bluetip,
The Sound,
Glenn Branca,
The Raincoats,
Donny Hathaway,
Tears for Fears,
Ken Boothe,
Oneida,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Y Pants,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Drive Like Jehu,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Searchers,
John Holt,
Deepchord,
Interpol,
Joy Division,
Quando Quango,
The Associates,
Radiopuhelimet,
Surgeon,
MC5,
Bang On A Can,
Quadrant,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Maurizio,
Black Flag,
Nico,
Aloha Tigers,
Visage,
Whodini,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Little Man,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Finger,
Laurel Aitken,
Robert Wyatt,
Swell Maps,
Desert Stars,
Roy Ayers,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Wake,
Marc Almond,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bush Tetras,
Pagans,
Agitation Free,
U.S. Maple,
Monks,
The Blackbyrds,
Franke,
Rosa Yemen,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.