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 Bolivia and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the marimba 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 Glenn Branca to the electroclash 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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Patti Smith,
Matthew Bourne,
Stetsasonic,
the Swans,
John Foxx,
Blancmange,
B.T. Express,
Scion,
the Association,
Mars,
The Doors,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jacques Brel,
Make Up,
Ralphi Rosario,
June of 44,
David Bowie,
CMW,
Pylon,
Unwound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang Starr,
T.S.O.L.,
Minor Threat,
James White and The Blacks,
Model 500,
Scientists,
Subhumans,
The Pop Group,
Dual Sessions,
L. Decosne,
Fear,
Dennis Brown,
Don Cherry,
Stiv Bators,
Piero Umiliani,
Basic Channel,
Sandy B,
Man Eating Sloth,
Television Personalities,
The Litter,
Tommy Roe,
Deepchord,
U.S. Maple,
Quadrant,
Kool Moe Dee,
The United States of America,
China Crisis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Cameo,
Surgeon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Johnny Clarke,
The Remains,
Max Romeo,
The Cowsills,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Neon Judgement,
the Soft Cell,
Metal Thangz,
Skarface,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.