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 Bolivia and from Salvador.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 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 Howard Jones to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Walker Brothers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Bizarre Inc.,
Barrington Levy,
Electric Prunes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Massinfluence,
Cameo,
Fugazi,
Hoover,
Sparks,
Quadrant,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Davy DMX,
Slave,
The Cure,
The Dirtbombs,
Index,
Tears for Fears,
The Blackbyrds,
Girls At Our Best!,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Reed,
Inner City,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Invisible,
Boz Scaggs,
Urselle,
The Moody Blues,
Erasure,
Bauhaus,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ken Boothe,
Bill Wells,
Vladislav Delay,
Monks,
Angry Samoans,
Pole,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cowsills,
Accadde A,
Arcadia,
The Fugs,
the Swans,
The Divine Comedy,
Pantaleimon,
This Heat,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lee Hazlewood,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chris Corsano,
The Trojans,
Pylon,
The Searchers,
Big Daddy Kane,
June of 44,
MC5,
Deepchord,
Banda Bassotti,
Flipper,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.