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 Switzerland and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Soul Sonic Force to the punk 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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All John Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aswad 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Fire Engines,
The Smoke,
Make Up,
Aswad,
Jeff Mills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eurythmics,
The Angels of Light,
A Certain Ratio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Porter Ricks,
Flamin' Groovies,
June of 44,
Aaron Thompson,
Joe Finger,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mars,
Lakeside,
Jesper Dahlback,
Pere Ubu,
DNA,
Josef K,
Q and Not U,
Stiv Bators,
The Remains,
The American Breed,
Ronan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spoonie Gee,
The Move,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Soft Cell,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Accadde A,
Danielle Patucci,
F. McDonald,
Mary Jane Girls,
Blancmange,
Nation of Ulysses,
Soul II Soul,
Deepchord,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sonics,
Animal Collective,
John Cale,
LL Cool J,
World's Most,
DJ Style,
Al Stewart,
Half Japanese,
Reuben Wilson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Radio Birdman,
Los Fastidios,
Brick,
Bootsy Collins,
Crash Course in Science,
Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence, Massinfluence.
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.