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 Mauritius and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the sitar 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 Tom Boy to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba 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?
Schoolly D,
Rod Modell,
The Beau Brummels,
Don Cherry,
Altered Images,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Masters at Work,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Monks,
Mr. Review,
Juan Atkins,
Gerry Rafferty,
Harry Pussy,
Television,
Flamin' Groovies,
Los Fastidios,
Cal Tjader,
James White and The Blacks,
Franke,
Bush Tetras,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Icehouse,
The Slackers,
The Leaves,
The Doors,
Infiniti,
Brothers Johnson,
The Electric Prunes,
Half Japanese,
Oneida,
The Smiths,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lee Hazlewood,
Roy Ayers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Accadde A,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Saccharine Trust,
Flipper,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Association,
The Red Krayola,
Ronan,
The Toasters,
Bootsy Collins,
Alice Coltrane,
The Trojans,
Royal Trux,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rufus Thomas,
Ponytail,
Make Up,
Model 500,
Subhumans,
Arcadia,
Soul Sonic Force,
a-ha,
Cluster,
Nik Kershaw,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.