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 Nicaragua and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Johannesburg.
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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ultra Naté to the grunge 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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Iggy Pop,
Camberwell Now,
The Moody Blues,
Sound Behaviour,
Fear,
Davy DMX,
Yazoo,
Ronan,
Babytalk,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gun Club,
The Tremeloes,
New Order,
Minnie Riperton,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
New York Dolls,
Negative Approach,
John Foxx,
Alison Limerick,
R.M.O.,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fugs,
The Star Department,
James White and The Blacks,
Glenn Branca,
One Last Wish,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Index,
Johnny Osbourne,
Todd Rundgren,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Misunderstood,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anakelly,
Hardrive,
Hoover,
Stetsasonic,
Harry Pussy,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mad Mike,
The Dirtbombs,
Deakin,
Black Bananas,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cure,
T. Rex,
Ituana,
Soul II Soul,
Procol Harum,
Livin' Joy,
Idris Muhammad,
Moby Grape,
E-Dancer,
Sex Pistols,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Rapeman,
Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free, Agitation Free.
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.