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 Russia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Sex Pistols to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Archie Shepp. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young & Crazy Horse record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
a-ha,
Scientists,
Dorothy Ashby,
Steve Hackett,
Amazonics,
Maleditus Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Misunderstood,
The Residents,
Nico,
Kenny Larkin,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jeff Mills,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Sherman,
Glenn Branca,
Hasil Adkins,
Cheater Slicks,
Electric Prunes,
Brand Nubian,
Masters at Work,
Con Funk Shun,
The Red Krayola,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ponytail,
Toni Rubio,
Mr. Review,
Peter & Gordon,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lalo Schifrin,
Harry Pussy,
Deepchord,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jandek,
Duran Duran,
Moebius,
Wasted Youth,
E-Dancer,
One Last Wish,
Mary Jane Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
China Crisis,
Deakin,
The Pretty Things,
Fatback Band,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oneida,
Thompson Twins,
Junior Murvin,
Roxy Music,
Trumans Water,
Funky Four + One,
Minor Threat,
Pole,
Henry Cow,
Fad Gadget,
Dark Day,
Eric Copeland,
Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra, Sun Ra Arkestra.
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.