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 Mongolia 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Eric Copeland to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crooked Eye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Make Up,
Terrestrial Tones,
Barbara Tucker,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joe Finger,
Minor Threat,
Sparks,
AZ,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun City Girls,
The Happenings,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fugs,
Das Ding,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
Brass Construction,
Radiohead,
Country Teasers,
Ten City,
Colin Newman,
The Cowsills,
Groovy Waters,
The Barracudas,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nick Fraelich,
Spandau Ballet,
Icehouse,
Boz Scaggs,
Kerri Chandler,
Skriet,
Black Flag,
The Offenders,
Bill Near,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Womack,
Alison Limerick,
the Germs,
The Last Poets,
Severed Heads,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scrapy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sexual Harrassment,
H. Thieme,
Aswad,
Alton Ellis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tubeway Army,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Juan Atkins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Kinks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.