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 Brazil and from Shanghai.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Gang of Four to the crunk 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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
Oblivians,
T. Rex,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faust,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Matthew Halsall,
the Swans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gang Gang Dance,
Alton Ellis,
The Pretty Things,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Joey Negro,
U.S. Maple,
Interpol,
Bootsy Collins,
David Bowie,
New York Dolls,
DJ Style,
The United States of America,
Bobby Byrd,
Skriet,
The Sisters of Mercy,
the Association,
Ten City,
Hardrive,
Barry Ungar,
Sandy B,
The Moleskins,
Brass Construction,
Brick,
Rapeman,
Hashim,
June of 44,
Tres Demented,
Lalann,
Nirvana,
Gong,
Funkadelic,
Scan 7,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
In Retrospect,
Joyce Sims,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Dual Sessions,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Duran Duran,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Chrome,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cecil Taylor,
Siglo XX,
Robert Wyatt,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Fire Engines,
Wings,
a-ha,
Michelle Simonal,
Jandek,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.