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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the güiro 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 Television to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Monks,
The Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Blues Magoos,
Monolake,
Sun Ra,
Unrelated Segments,
KRS-One,
Spoonie Gee,
Marvin Gaye,
Soulsonic Force,
The Grass Roots,
The Smiths,
Brick,
Radiohead,
Flipper,
The Birthday Party,
the Association,
Wolf Eyes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Lou Reed,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fire Engines,
Sight & Sound,
R.M.O.,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soft Cell,
The Dave Clark Five,
Joensuu 1685,
Albert Ayler,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Count Five,
Electric Prunes,
The Star Department,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
a-ha,
Das Ding,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spandau Ballet,
Moebius,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The New Christs,
Josef K,
Funkadelic,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
EPMD,
The Sonics,
Arthur Verocai,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Erykah Badu,
Guru Guru,
Barrington Levy,
Banda Bassotti,
Quando Quango,
Stetsasonic,
The Moleskins,
Harry Pussy,
Theoretical Girls,
One Last Wish,
Half Japanese,
Tim Buckley,
Sunsets and Hearts,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.