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 Djibouti and from Stockholm.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Amon Düül to the rap 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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
John Cale,
Black Flag,
Stetsasonic,
Sexual Harrassment,
JFA,
Glenn Branca,
Ultravox,
The Slits,
Eli Mardock,
Moebius,
This Heat,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Blues Magoos,
Slick Rick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Buzzcocks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fluxion,
Pantytec,
Basic Channel,
The Blackbyrds,
Y Pants,
Smog,
Crash Course in Science,
Desert Stars,
Malaria!,
Agent Orange,
Sex Pistols,
B.T. Express,
Juan Atkins,
Pet Shop Boys,
Scan 7,
the Slits,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Siglo XX,
Severed Heads,
Public Enemy,
Parry Music,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Technova,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jandek,
Drexciya,
Colin Newman,
Arcadia,
Deadbeat,
Icehouse,
Alice Coltrane,
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vainqueur,
Talk Talk,
Rufus Thomas,
Urselle,
Intrusion,
Zapp,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tomorrow,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.