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 Slovenia and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 clarinet 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 Gang of Four to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
The Names,
Lightning Bolt,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brothers Johnson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Archie Shepp,
PIL,
Qualms,
Cheater Slicks,
Wire,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cymande,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
DNA,
Sight & Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
Jeff Mills,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dead C,
Nas,
The Flesh Eaters,
Don Cherry,
Blake Baxter,
Gang Starr,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Rundgren,
Deadbeat,
Model 500,
The Offenders,
F. McDonald,
The Divine Comedy,
Althea and Donna,
Brand Nubian,
The Walker Brothers,
Rod Modell,
Stiv Bators,
The Tremeloes,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
T. Rex,
Nick Fraelich,
The New Christs,
Derrick Morgan,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sarah Menescal,
The Stooges,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Blossom Toes,
Bluetip,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gong,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rakim,
Mandrill,
Charles Mingus,
Roger Hodgson,
Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo, Von Mondo.
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.