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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lou Reed to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chrome,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Pus,
Joe Smooth,
The Selecter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
KRS-One,
Outsiders,
Barbara Tucker,
Warsaw,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Five Americans,
The Offenders,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Copeland,
R.M.O.,
Bang On A Can,
The Divine Comedy,
cv313,
Black Sheep,
Surgeon,
Los Fastidios,
New Order,
Yazoo,
Barrington Levy,
Alphaville,
Grauzone,
Idris Muhammad,
the Slits,
Television,
David Axelrod,
The Fortunes,
Shuggie Otis,
Glenn Branca,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Funkadelic,
Severed Heads,
Das Ding,
Radiohead,
Gichy Dan,
Newcleus,
Rosa Yemen,
Neil Young,
Silicon Teens,
the Human League,
Bill Wells,
Magazine,
Yellowson,
Adolescents,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fat Boys,
June Days,
Eden Ahbez,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sun Ra,
Urselle,
The Moleskins,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.