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 Tuvalu and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin 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 Sex Pistols to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Stiv Bators,
Idris Muhammad,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Albert Ayler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
KRS-One,
The Red Krayola,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
Ludus,
Camouflage,
Index,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Das Ding,
Scratch Acid,
Grandmaster Flash,
Harmonia,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boz Scaggs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Dual Sessions,
Anakelly,
Alphaville,
Soft Cell,
Soul Sonic Force,
Ralphi Rosario,
Arab on Radar,
The Sound,
Suburban Knight,
Bad Manners,
Excepter,
Aswad,
Audionom,
Average White Band,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Selecter,
Lindisfarne,
Mad Mike,
Quadrant,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Trumans Water,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Oblivians,
Iggy Pop,
June of 44,
Michelle Simonal,
Minnie Riperton,
Infiniti,
Radiohead,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Raincoats,
Dark Day,
Jeff Lynne,
Pierre Henry,
Todd Terry,
Throbbing Gristle,
Swell Maps,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.