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 Swaziland and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Lungfish to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharoah Sanders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Qualms,
The Cure,
Susan Cadogan,
June Days,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ash Ra Tempel,
This Heat,
The Evens,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Warsaw,
The Victims,
Malaria!,
Piero Umiliani,
Urselle,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Todd Terry,
The Blackbyrds,
D'Angelo,
Gang Starr,
U.S. Maple,
Gong,
Cal Tjader,
Black Sheep,
Babytalk,
Cecil Taylor,
John Lydon,
Massinfluence,
Eden Ahbez,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Popol Vuh,
Derrick Morgan,
L. Decosne,
The Associates,
Nils Olav,
Monolake,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Stiv Bators,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cheater Slicks,
Idris Muhammad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Deakin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rufus Thomas,
Surgeon,
Ice-T,
Eddi Front,
Radiopuhelimet,
Judy Mowatt,
Parry Music,
Lindisfarne,
Duran Duran,
Amazonics,
In Retrospect,
Pantytec,
Alphaville,
Bootsy Collins,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tommy Roe,
John Coltrane,
Dual Sessions,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.