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 Germany and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Althea and Donna,
H. Thieme,
Tubeway Army,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Happenings,
The Gun Club,
Malaria!,
Glenn Branca,
These Immortal Souls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Pulsallama,
Warren Ellis,
Stereo Dub,
The Fall,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Slits,
Motorama,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Unwound,
World's Most,
Minor Threat,
Buzzcocks,
Bush Tetras,
The Gories,
Fat Boys,
DNA,
The Barracudas,
Lindisfarne,
Albert Ayler,
Toni Rubio,
Kayak,
Colin Newman,
Godley & Creme,
The Monochrome Set,
Faraquet,
Dennis Brown,
Boredoms,
Gil Scott Heron,
Curtis Mayfield,
Warsaw,
ABC,
Flamin' Groovies,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Axelrod,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nik Kershaw,
Cameo,
Lightning Bolt,
Ronan,
Qualms,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Wyatt,
The Associates,
Junior Murvin,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Lakeside,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Aural Exciters,
Eden Ahbez,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.