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 Tuvalu and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 synthesizer 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 New Age Steppers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris Corsano record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Scratch Acid,
Aaron Thompson,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sällskapet,
Sight & Sound,
The Gun Club,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Soft Cell,
MDC,
Black Bananas,
Minor Threat,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bobby Womack,
Yusef Lateef,
Bang On A Can,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DJ Style,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joey Negro,
Altered Images,
Terry Callier,
Symarip,
China Crisis,
B.T. Express,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Fela Kuti,
Theoretical Girls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Moebius,
Lyres,
Infiniti,
New Age Steppers,
The Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
David McCallum,
Boz Scaggs,
Tres Demented,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
Carl Craig,
David Axelrod,
Deadbeat,
Amazonics,
Young Marble Giants,
Hot Snakes,
Johnny Clarke,
The Detroit Cobras,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Prince Buster,
The Selecter,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ronnie Foster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Cowsills,
Steve Hackett,
Monolake,
The Mummies,
Cheater Slicks,
Matthew Bourne,
World's Most,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.