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 Iceland and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 synthesizer 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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell to the disco 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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sparks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Gang Green,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barrington Levy,
Henry Cow,
Cheater Slicks,
Sun Ra,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Victims,
Skaos,
Fela Kuti,
Minny Pops,
Sandy B,
kango's stein massive,
David Bowie,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marvin Gaye,
The Residents,
Jesper Dahlback,
Khruangbin,
Mission of Burma,
Yaz,
The Busters,
Fugazi,
Wasted Youth,
The Walker Brothers,
Kayak,
Barbara Tucker,
Robert Görl,
Oblivians,
Sixth Finger,
Tommy Roe,
Bobby Womack,
Hoover,
Monolake,
Isaac Hayes,
Letta Mbulu,
Prince Buster,
Amazonics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Joy Division,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Jimmy McGriff,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lightning Bolt,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dave Clark Five,
Aswad,
Porter Ricks,
Main Source,
Los Fastidios,
Bobby Sherman,
Grauzone,
Nico,
John Holt,
Magazine,
Wolf Eyes,
Cameo,
a-ha,
Lindisfarne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Freddie Wadling,
Terry Callier,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.