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 Kenya and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the dance 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Hot Snakes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Laurel Aitken,
The Doobie Brothers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Radiohead,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Move,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Darondo,
Panda Bear,
Pantytec,
Rapeman,
Delon & Dalcan,
Circle Jerks,
Popol Vuh,
Grandmaster Flash,
June Days,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monochrome Set,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Germs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Motorama,
Silicon Teens,
The Count Five,
The Saints,
Infiniti,
Skriet,
The Misunderstood,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
Talk Talk,
Q65,
Minny Pops,
The Smiths,
The Blues Magoos,
Mandrill,
Altered Images,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gil Scott Heron,
Make Up,
Lyres,
The Victims,
The Slackers,
Wire,
The Flesh Eaters,
The United States of America,
Arcadia,
The New Christs,
Jesper Dahlback,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Godley & Creme,
Bootsy Collins,
the Swans,
The Cure,
The Last Poets,
Marmalade,
Whodini,
The Golliwogs,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.