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 Turkmenistan and from London.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Harry Pussy to the grunge 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
Joensuu 1685,
Cheater Slicks,
Glenn Branca,
Swans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wire,
Dennis Brown,
Tears for Fears,
Au Pairs,
The Last Poets,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minny Pops,
Lou Reed,
The Alarm Clocks,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Happenings,
Neu!,
Ice-T,
Man Parrish,
Scott Walker,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Womack,
Donald Byrd,
Barrington Levy,
Aloha Tigers,
Junior Murvin,
The Fall,
The Stooges,
Soulsonic Force,
Reagan Youth,
Second Layer,
Hot Snakes,
Camberwell Now,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Barbara Tucker,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The J.B.'s,
Public Enemy,
The Trojans,
the Germs,
a-ha,
Josef K,
Shoche,
Wasted Youth,
Basic Channel,
Crash Course in Science,
Pantytec,
Robert Görl,
Crooked Eye,
Eli Mardock,
Sam Rivers,
The Young Rascals,
The Red Krayola,
The Grass Roots,
Country Teasers,
Anakelly,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.