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 Italy and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 theremin 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 Intrusion to the funk 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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Yaz,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Standells,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Crooked Eye,
Stiv Bators,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quadrant,
Cal Tjader,
The Toasters,
Cybotron,
Ituana,
Grey Daturas,
Moby Grape,
Sandy B,
Tommy Roe,
The Residents,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Lydon,
The United States of America,
Das Ding,
The Martian,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eddi Front,
John Coltrane,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Television,
Lou Christie,
Henry Cow,
the Association,
The Kinks,
The Fortunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Visage,
The Gladiators,
Boredoms,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Davy DMX,
Eric B and Rakim,
Agitation Free,
The Motions,
Ultravox,
Babytalk,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
Yellowson,
Rites of Spring,
Harmonia,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Neil Young,
LL Cool J,
Hot Snakes,
Theoretical Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Cecil Taylor,
Albert Ayler,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Parry Music,
Fugazi,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.