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 Equatorial Guinea and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Terry Callier to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers 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 punk 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 linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Eric Dolphy,
Angry Samoans,
The Last Poets,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soul II Soul,
Heaven 17,
The Human League,
Bronski Beat,
The Remains,
the Slits,
Matthew Halsall,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Victims,
Scientists,
The Flesh Eaters,
Popol Vuh,
The Kinks,
Brick,
Zapp,
Judy Mowatt,
Dual Sessions,
Procol Harum,
Arthur Verocai,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Velvet Underground,
Chris & Cosey,
Shoche,
Dorothy Ashby,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Black Bananas,
The Raincoats,
David Axelrod,
Vladislav Delay,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Iggy Pop,
Harmonia,
Sarah Menescal,
10cc,
Trumans Water,
Unwound,
Stiv Bators,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
The Count Five,
Loose Ends,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Techniques,
Reuben Wilson,
Lightning Bolt,
Mr. Review,
Eli Mardock,
Intrusion,
Gichy Dan,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Circle Jerks,
Thee Headcoats,
JFA,
Pylon,
David Bowie,
Depeche Mode,
Rhythm & Sound,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.