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 Israel and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Last Poets to the dance 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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Tomorrow,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Monks,
La Düsseldorf,
Alphaville,
Urselle,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Kinks,
John Lydon,
The Monochrome Set,
Basic Channel,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fugazi,
Fear,
Joy Division,
The Litter,
H. Thieme,
Laurel Aitken,
Quando Quango,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Almond,
One Last Wish,
Rekid,
Lalann,
Peter & Gordon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Seeds,
Iggy Pop,
Yellowson,
CMW,
Warsaw,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Raincoats,
The Walker Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
Mo-Dettes,
Mark Hollis,
Surgeon,
Slave,
Newcleus,
The Fugs,
Johnny Clarke,
Crash Course in Science,
Symarip,
Monks,
Kerri Chandler,
The Sound,
Kas Product,
Jeff Lynne,
Heaven 17,
Marmalade,
The Gun Club,
Chrome,
Arcadia,
Nils Olav,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine, Major Organ And The Adding Machine.
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.