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 Iran and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Seoul.
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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Five Americans to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hardrive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
Flipper,
Brothers Johnson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Spandau Ballet,
Soft Machine,
The Electric Prunes,
Anthony Braxton,
Bad Manners,
Harry Pussy,
Pere Ubu,
Little Man,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Mantronix,
Ronan,
KRS-One,
Hasil Adkins,
Kenny Larkin,
Brand Nubian,
Motorama,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Pretty Things,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eurythmics,
Marine Girls,
Average White Band,
The Golliwogs,
The J.B.'s,
Bang On A Can,
Danielle Patucci,
Neil Young,
Animal Collective,
Ronnie Foster,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Marc Almond,
the Normal,
Section 25,
Andrew Hill,
Kool Moe Dee,
Joe Finger,
Sister Nancy,
The Cure,
L. Decosne,
The Gun Club,
Vladislav Delay,
Cluster,
Sandy B,
The Standells,
Marmalade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Nils Olav,
Iggy Pop,
The Monks,
Todd Terry,
Desert Stars,
Lakeside,
In Retrospect,
Whodini,
Make Up,
The Young Rascals,
Visage,
Suicide,
Dead Boys,
Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack, Bobby Womack.
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.