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 Guinea and from Houston.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bobby Sherman to the rock 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Morten Harket record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Godley & Creme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Dirtbombs,
Leonard Cohen,
Be Bop Deluxe,
John Lydon,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fire Engines,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joe Finger,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lou Reed,
Alison Limerick,
Tubeway Army,
Prince Buster,
Matthew Halsall,
Darondo,
Scion,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Todd Terry,
Wasted Youth,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Moebius,
Amon Düül,
Agitation Free,
the Soft Cell,
Rites of Spring,
cv313,
Guru Guru,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Roger Hodgson,
Bob Dylan,
Essential Logic,
Quando Quango,
Lucky Dragons,
The Grass Roots,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Archie Shepp,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Al Stewart,
The Cure,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Underground Resistance,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
World's Most,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tom Boy,
The Fortunes,
Bobby Sherman,
Oneida,
Dawn Penn,
Newcleus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Blake Baxter,
Stiv Bators,
Panda Bear,
The Sonics,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.