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 France and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Roy Ayers to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All H. Thieme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Freddie Wadling record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Tubeway Army,
Charles Mingus,
Main Source,
The Victims,
Grauzone,
Beasts of Bourbon,
John Lydon,
Jacob Miller,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Skarface,
Sandy B,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Animal Collective,
The United States of America,
Amon Düül,
T. Rex,
The Residents,
Aswad,
Ultra Naté,
Bill Near,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Sister Nancy,
Radio Birdman,
Dennis Brown,
Spandau Ballet,
The Happenings,
Dead Boys,
Bizarre Inc.,
Kerrie Biddell,
Gang Green,
Quantec,
Excepter,
Porter Ricks,
L. Decosne,
Gong,
Radiopuhelimet,
Godley & Creme,
The Real Kids,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Aaron Thompson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The J.B.'s,
Rapeman,
the Sonics,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Dawn Penn,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
New York Dolls,
Bronski Beat,
Slick Rick,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Görl,
Ludus,
Lyres,
Kayak,
The Red Krayola,
The Divine Comedy,
Piero Umiliani,
Amon Düül II,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef, Yusef Lateef.
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.