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 United States and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 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 Brass Construction to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stiv Bators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
Cameo,
Rakim,
The Cure,
The Barracudas,
the Slits,
Davy DMX,
Lyres,
Bang On A Can,
Lebanon Hanover,
Camouflage,
The Modern Lovers,
The Walker Brothers,
Popol Vuh,
Thompson Twins,
L. Decosne,
Ken Boothe,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
Flash Fearless,
The Star Department,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris & Cosey,
Marc Almond,
Gang Starr,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
KRS-One,
Country Teasers,
Ponytail,
Kerri Chandler,
Moss Icon,
Fugazi,
Harpers Bizarre,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fire Engines,
Shuggie Otis,
Faraquet,
Wally Richardson,
Sun City Girls,
World's Most,
Patti Smith,
Neil Young,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Supertramp,
The Evens,
The United States of America,
The Names,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
Soft Machine,
Young Marble Giants,
Lungfish,
Reuben Wilson,
JFA,
The Angels of Light,
Lucky Dragons,
Unwound,
Altered Images,
Radiohead,
Robert Hood,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.