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 New Zealand and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Houston.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Byron Stingily to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Sheep record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Bowie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Al Stewart,
Pussy Galore,
These Immortal Souls,
Davy DMX,
the Normal,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smoke,
Marvin Gaye,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Cure,
Swans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Deakin,
Trumans Water,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Can,
The Misunderstood,
Hasil Adkins,
The Knickerbockers,
The Monks,
The Count Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
James White and The Blacks,
Arab on Radar,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Slackers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Young Rascals,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Franke,
Cymande,
Johnny Clarke,
Lalo Schifrin,
Magma,
Buzzcocks,
Bob Dylan,
Blossom Toes,
Sixth Finger,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joyce Sims,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Duran Duran,
James Chance & The Contortions,
New Age Steppers,
The Searchers,
The Gories,
Mantronix,
Oneida,
Lungfish,
Black Bananas,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Victims,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Grass Roots,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Black Dice,
The Toasters,
Cal Tjader,
Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti, Infiniti.
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.