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 Nigeria and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Edmonton.
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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Delon & Dalcan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry's Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heavy D & The Boyz,
June of 44,
Flash Fearless,
Bizarre Inc.,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The American Breed,
Roxy Music,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Suburban Knight,
Easy Going,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül II,
Reuben Wilson,
The Selecter,
Thee Headcoats,
Average White Band,
Dawn Penn,
The Smoke,
Harry Pussy,
The Slackers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wings,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Excepter,
Cheater Slicks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lucky Dragons,
Robert Görl,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
X-Ray Spex,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rakim,
The Fugs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Boz Scaggs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
R.M.O.,
The Five Americans,
B.T. Express,
Joe Smooth,
X-102,
Aaron Thompson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Crime,
Aswad,
Dead Boys,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sun Ra,
Marvin Gaye,
Public Enemy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Steve Hackett,
Urselle,
Lakeside,
Patti Smith,
Bob Dylan,
A Certain Ratio,
Eric B and Rakim,
Maleditus Sound,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.