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 Andorra and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Byron Stingily to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Technova,
David Bowie,
Stiv Bators,
Wasted Youth,
Y Pants,
Anthony Braxton,
The Human League,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ken Boothe,
Siglo XX,
Talk Talk,
Absolute Body Control,
Alphaville,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Soft Cell,
June Days,
Los Fastidios,
Hashim,
Soul II Soul,
Ronan,
Lou Christie,
Unrelated Segments,
Sarah Menescal,
Loose Ends,
Graham Central Station,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rites of Spring,
Lower 48,
Niagra,
Con Funk Shun,
The Gun Club,
The Standells,
Masters at Work,
Sun City Girls,
Eli Mardock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Joe Finger,
Yazoo,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dead C,
Toni Rubio,
Barry Ungar,
Davy DMX,
Connie Case,
Tubeway Army,
The Victims,
Severed Heads,
One Last Wish,
Minutemen,
Ornette Coleman,
Derrick Morgan,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Brass Construction,
Neil Young,
the Swans,
Henry Cow,
the Germs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.