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 Korea South and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba 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 Busters to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nik Kershaw,
John Coltrane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Make Up,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Raincoats,
New Order,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eve St. Jones,
Terry Callier,
Spandau Ballet,
Girls At Our Best!,
Eden Ahbez,
the Bar-Kays,
Wolf Eyes,
Prince Buster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
R.M.O.,
Johnny Clarke,
Amazonics,
JFA,
Amon Düül,
Soul II Soul,
Barry Ungar,
Isaac Hayes,
T. Rex,
Hasil Adkins,
Babytalk,
The Victims,
The American Breed,
Joe Finger,
The Angels of Light,
The Fire Engines,
Man Eating Sloth,
Todd Rundgren,
Inner City,
Circle Jerks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Suburban Knight,
Malaria!,
Black Sheep,
Saccharine Trust,
Drexciya,
Mo-Dettes,
Pet Shop Boys,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Deepchord,
Ludus,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
The Human League,
Pantytec,
Crispy Ambulance,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Red Krayola,
Joy Division,
Toni Rubio,
Soulsonic Force,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.