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 Jamaica and from Milan.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Dirtbombs to the punk 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 Residents. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marcia Griffiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Unrelated Segments,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wire,
Camberwell Now,
Albert Ayler,
Skriet,
Urselle,
Lightning Bolt,
Khruangbin,
Derrick May,
Liliput,
Blancmange,
These Immortal Souls,
Stereo Dub,
The Dead C,
The Busters,
Heaven 17,
Sandy B,
Graham Central Station,
Vainqueur,
Ultra Naté,
Nils Olav,
Agitation Free,
Jeff Lynne,
Matthew Halsall,
Tim Buckley,
Fatback Band,
The Doors,
Don Cherry,
Scott Walker,
Spandau Ballet,
The Kinks,
8 Eyed Spy,
Laurel Aitken,
LL Cool J,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Andrew Hill,
Ralphi Rosario,
Magma,
The Angels of Light,
John Coltrane,
ABBA,
This Heat,
Scrapy,
Lindisfarne,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Trumans Water,
The Fall,
The Fortunes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fat Boys,
Simply Red,
The Trojans,
Model 500,
The Seeds,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Gladiators,
R.M.O.,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.