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 Ecuador and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Moleskins to the rap 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Godley & Creme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arab on Radar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Pere Ubu,
Liliput,
the Normal,
D'Angelo,
The Fire Engines,
Fugazi,
Bizarre Inc.,
Outsiders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roger Hodgson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wings,
E-Dancer,
Flash Fearless,
A Flock of Seagulls,
F. McDonald,
Danielle Patucci,
Alison Limerick,
The Vogues,
Porter Ricks,
Model 500,
Icehouse,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Brick,
Stereo Dub,
Cybotron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Skarface,
Faust,
Skaos,
Jesper Dahlback,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lebanon Hanover,
Throbbing Gristle,
Malaria!,
Pylon,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Gun Club,
Ultra Naté,
The Litter,
K-Klass,
AZ,
Eli Mardock,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Coltrane,
a-ha,
Barbara Tucker,
Roxette,
Scratch Acid,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Chris Corsano,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
John Lydon,
the Human League,
Leonard Cohen,
Marvin Gaye,
Rapeman,
Harmonia,
The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves, The Leaves.
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.