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 Vietnam and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Modern Lovers to the disco 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 The Blackbyrds. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cal Tjader record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Black Flag,
Livin' Joy,
Procol Harum,
Drexciya,
Dawn Penn,
Thee Headcoats,
Letta Mbulu,
Visage,
Gong,
Ice-T,
Terrestrial Tones,
Parry Music,
The Mojo Men,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deepchord,
The Blackbyrds,
Interpol,
Juan Atkins,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Erykah Badu,
The Gun Club,
Hardrive,
The Stooges,
Angry Samoans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Moleskins,
The Slits,
The Victims,
Black Pus,
Derrick May,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Unwound,
EPMD,
Severed Heads,
The Smiths,
Cymande,
Robert Hood,
Bronski Beat,
Sixth Finger,
Al Stewart,
Brass Construction,
Gerry Rafferty,
Robert Görl,
Sonic Youth,
Chrome,
The Smoke,
Terry Callier,
Stiv Bators,
E-Dancer,
Make Up,
Fad Gadget,
DJ Sneak,
The Golliwogs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glambeats Corp.,
Groovy Waters,
Black Sheep,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.