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 Senegal and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Wolf Eyes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amazonics,
Pussy Galore,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Guru Guru,
Flash Fearless,
Hasil Adkins,
Con Funk Shun,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sound Behaviour,
Brand Nubian,
Funky Four + One,
Depeche Mode,
Porter Ricks,
The Electric Prunes,
Shoche,
E-Dancer,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Reuben Wilson,
Bob Dylan,
Arcadia,
Cecil Taylor,
Oneida,
Dawn Penn,
The Golliwogs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kayak,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kas Product,
Ludus,
The Barracudas,
China Crisis,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fall,
Cluster,
Camouflage,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kerrie Biddell,
Negative Approach,
Panda Bear,
Underground Resistance,
Blancmange,
the Normal,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sam Rivers,
Amon Düül,
Scott Walker,
Bobby Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Lyres,
The Invisible,
The Dirtbombs,
Swans,
Sandy B,
Agitation Free,
The Selecter,
Bad Manners,
Procol Harum,
Eric B and Rakim,
Ultimate Spinach,
Barbara Tucker,
The Mojo Men,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.