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 New Zealand and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sparks to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gun Club,
Marvin Gaye,
Pere Ubu,
Cameo,
Reagan Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
Black Bananas,
Rapeman,
Maleditus Sound,
Sarah Menescal,
Sparks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Faust,
Television,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
MC5,
Wings,
Panda Bear,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
These Immortal Souls,
Barbara Tucker,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Easy Going,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lee Hazlewood,
The J.B.'s,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobby Womack,
Erykah Badu,
Jacques Brel,
the Association,
Chris & Cosey,
Camouflage,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ossler,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
The Slackers,
Terry Callier,
Mandrill,
Motorama,
Stetsasonic,
Quando Quango,
Ultravox,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bronski Beat,
The Kinks,
U.S. Maple,
Suicide,
Y Pants,
The Young Rascals,
Little Man,
Minutemen,
Cal Tjader,
Slave,
UT,
Scott Walker,
Rotary Connection,
The Smoke,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.