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 Mexico and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro 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 Outsiders 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 Make Up. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Art Ensemble Of Chicago 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacob Miller,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott Heron,
Icehouse,
The American Breed,
Subhumans,
The Monks,
China Crisis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fela Kuti,
Black Bananas,
John Lydon,
Byron Stingily,
The Techniques,
Dawn Penn,
Sonny Sharrock,
Arab on Radar,
Matthew Bourne,
Niagra,
Gichy Dan,
The Doobie Brothers,
David Axelrod,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Index,
OOIOO,
Drexciya,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Brand Nubian,
Thee Headcoats,
the Swans,
Quantec,
Oneida,
PIL,
48th St. Collective,
Jawbox,
Crime,
Soft Machine,
The Fortunes,
Ituana,
Aswad,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Aloha Tigers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Television Personalities,
Jeff Mills,
Au Pairs,
Heaven 17,
Freddie Wadling,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bootsy Collins,
cv313,
The Smoke,
The Motions,
Girls At Our Best!,
Guru Guru,
The Toasters,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Average White Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Susan Cadogan,
Barbara Tucker,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.