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 Palau and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 sitar 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 Absolute Body Control to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Circle Jerks,
John Foxx,
The Mojo Men,
Barry Ungar,
The Wake,
Quando Quango,
ABC,
Brass Construction,
Pole,
R.M.O.,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rufus Thomas,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Archie Shepp,
Loose Ends,
Lyres,
Hoover,
Donny Hathaway,
Nik Kershaw,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Pulsallama,
Tropical Tobacco,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sparks,
Derrick Morgan,
Minutemen,
Donald Byrd,
The Smoke,
Pagans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Altered Images,
Leonard Cohen,
Pussy Galore,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Anthony Braxton,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sixth Finger,
The Toasters,
Metal Thangz,
The Stooges,
Amon Düül,
Banda Bassotti,
Rosa Yemen,
Goldenarms,
Crime,
Terry Callier,
Aaron Thompson,
Q65,
Jeff Mills,
Television Personalities,
Wire,
Al Stewart,
Jerry's Kids,
Intrusion,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Outsiders,
The Blues Magoos,
Don Cherry,
The Kinks,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.