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 Sweden and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 sitar 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
Moebius,
Cymande,
Toni Rubio,
Flash Fearless,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cure,
Desert Stars,
Chris Corsano,
Visage,
The Flesh Eaters,
Deepchord,
June of 44,
Crash Course in Science,
Gichy Dan,
Soft Machine,
Depeche Mode,
48th St. Collective,
Young Marble Giants,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
John Coltrane,
Ossler,
The New Christs,
John Cale,
These Immortal Souls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Curtis Mayfield,
Surgeon,
Sparks,
Todd Terry,
Gang Green,
The Fuzztones,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Sound Behaviour,
Bang On A Can,
Lindisfarne,
The Monochrome Set,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Style,
Pole,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fire Engines,
The Fortunes,
Quantec,
The Music Machine,
Suicide,
Graham Central Station,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
Tubeway Army,
Anthony Braxton,
T. Rex,
Can,
Marmalade,
The Move,
Easy Going,
Lalo Schifrin,
Piero Umiliani,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Human League,
Dave Gahan,
The Saints, The Saints, The Saints, The Saints.
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.