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 Bhutan and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Fela Kuti to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Visage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Y Pants,
Kenny Larkin,
Amon Düül II,
Boredoms,
Buzzcocks,
Glenn Branca,
Grandmaster Flash,
Fad Gadget,
Bush Tetras,
The Names,
Brick,
Jeff Lynne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mr. Review,
The Remains,
Steve Hackett,
Joensuu 1685,
The Monks,
Al Stewart,
The Modern Lovers,
In Retrospect,
Barrington Levy,
Laurel Aitken,
Bob Dylan,
The Evens,
Public Image Ltd.,
Wally Richardson,
MDC,
Ten City,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Hashim,
Japan,
F. McDonald,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Gil Scott Heron,
Charles Mingus,
Lalann,
Pussy Galore,
Von Mondo,
Kayak,
Aloha Tigers,
Malaria!,
kango's stein massive,
Faust,
Minutemen,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Saccharine Trust,
Index,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
JFA,
Hot Snakes,
Ludus,
The Motions,
James White and The Blacks,
The Grass Roots,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fat Boys,
The Pretty Things,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.