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 Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
Mr. Review,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bluetip,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rites of Spring,
Lyres,
Radiohead,
B.T. Express,
The Offenders,
Panda Bear,
Ponytail,
Flipper,
Carl Craig,
Sun City Girls,
Urselle,
Traffic Nightmare,
Suicide,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ralphi Rosario,
Monolake,
Bobby Womack,
The Selecter,
X-Ray Spex,
Whodini,
The Angels of Light,
Von Mondo,
Moebius,
Jeff Lynne,
Parry Music,
Minutemen,
Audionom,
Dead Boys,
Deepchord,
Con Funk Shun,
Prince Buster,
The Monks,
Bootsy Collins,
Negative Approach,
The Human League,
the Slits,
Main Source,
Black Flag,
Frankie Knuckles,
David Axelrod,
UT,
H. Thieme,
Henry Cow,
John Cale,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cybotron,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Iggy Pop,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Clear Light,
Vainqueur,
New Age Steppers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Porter Ricks,
Excepter, Excepter, Excepter, Excepter.
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.