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 Benin and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 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 Tommy Roe to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nirvana,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Slits,
Delon & Dalcan,
T.S.O.L.,
Dead Boys,
Kerri Chandler,
Kayak,
Rites of Spring,
Cameo,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wally Richardson,
Robert Hood,
Crooked Eye,
The Move,
Colin Newman,
Lindisfarne,
Gabor Szabo,
Royal Trux,
a-ha,
Sandy B,
Hoover,
Ludus,
Mandrill,
Eddi Front,
Eric B and Rakim,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Organ,
Banda Bassotti,
Erasure,
Sparks,
AZ,
Rakim,
June Days,
Agent Orange,
Visage,
Suburban Knight,
Radiohead,
U.S. Maple,
Buzzcocks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blake Baxter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pussy Galore,
The Golliwogs,
The Divine Comedy,
Whodini,
Anakelly,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Count Five,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tres Demented,
Josef K,
David McCallum,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Flesh Eaters,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Amon Düül,
Cluster,
Newcleus,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx, John Foxx.
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.