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 Botswana and from New York.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Calgary.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Flamin' Groovies to the funk 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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Howard Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mission of Burma record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Clear Light,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Lungfish,
Quando Quango,
The Seeds,
Minor Threat,
D'Angelo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Con Funk Shun,
Visage,
Unrelated Segments,
Isaac Hayes,
The United States of America,
One Last Wish,
The Moody Blues,
JFA,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Wyatt,
Lower 48,
The Gun Club,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dead C,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Cal Tjader,
Colin Newman,
World's Most,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Fugazi,
Sparks,
Depeche Mode,
Groovy Waters,
Vladislav Delay,
Make Up,
Mantronix,
Max Romeo,
Rites of Spring,
The Smoke,
Man Parrish,
Black Flag,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Beau Brummels,
B.T. Express,
The Fugs,
KRS-One,
Pussy Galore,
Mission of Burma,
Half Japanese,
Alice Coltrane,
Janne Schatter,
ABBA,
Lou Christie,
Pole,
Unwound,
Rekid,
Angry Samoans,
Qualms,
The Neon Judgement,
Morten Harket,
Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio, Gian Franco Pienzio.
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.