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 Hungary and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 EPMD to the punk 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Morten Harket,
Peter and Kerry,
Motorama,
The Knickerbockers,
H. Thieme,
Outsiders,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sex Pistols,
DNA,
Whodini,
Eddi Front,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Connie Case,
Royal Trux,
Minor Threat,
Intrusion,
Theoretical Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Audionom,
Skriet,
Wally Richardson,
Brick,
Kas Product,
Country Teasers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Freddie Wadling,
Rod Modell,
The Shadows of Knight,
Henry Cow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Rufus Thomas,
Nirvana,
Negative Approach,
Toni Rubio,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Sheep,
the Swans,
Hardrive,
Nils Olav,
Laurel Aitken,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Johnny Clarke,
June Days,
Charles Mingus,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fugs,
Heaven 17,
Pagans,
John Coltrane,
The Wake,
Dual Sessions,
Bob Dylan,
Gong,
Newcleus,
Funkadelic,
Sonny Sharrock,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids, Jerry's Kids.
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.