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 France and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin 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 Remains to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Tres Demented tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
PIL,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Associates,
Bobby Sherman,
Lou Reed,
Tubeway Army,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sam Rivers,
Radio Birdman,
Malaria!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Negative Approach,
Jacques Brel,
Newcleus,
Grauzone,
Aswad,
The Toasters,
Bob Dylan,
Albert Ayler,
Swans,
The Knickerbockers,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cameo,
Hardrive,
Roy Ayers,
Popol Vuh,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faust,
Bill Wells,
X-Ray Spex,
Agent Orange,
Yazoo,
David Bowie,
the Sonics,
Soulsonic Force,
Spandau Ballet,
Joe Smooth,
Radiohead,
The Five Americans,
Iggy Pop,
The Index,
Suicide,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Guru Guru,
Qualms,
Lakeside,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Cabaret Voltaire,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Godley & Creme,
Jimmy McGriff,
Siglo XX,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ornette Coleman,
Shuggie Otis,
Faraquet,
Gang of Four,
Grandmaster Flash,
Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats, Thee Headcoats.
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.