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 United Kingdom and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 arpeggiator 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 Black Flag to the grime 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Joyce Sims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barrington Levy,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Tremeloes,
Steve Hackett,
the Bar-Kays,
Charles Mingus,
Bang On A Can,
The Raincoats,
New York Dolls,
Das Ding,
New Order,
DNA,
Ludus,
Ronan,
The Wake,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Althea and Donna,
The Happenings,
Spandau Ballet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Al Stewart,
Excepter,
Y Pants,
X-Ray Spex,
Godley & Creme,
The Red Krayola,
Gabor Szabo,
The Victims,
Procol Harum,
Kaleidoscope,
Donald Byrd,
F. McDonald,
Buzzcocks,
Henry Cow,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pussy Galore,
Derrick Morgan,
Vainqueur,
Mission of Burma,
Stereo Dub,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Rapeman,
Dave Gahan,
Delta 5,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Delon & Dalcan,
Icehouse,
Angry Samoans,
Rekid,
The Fuzztones,
Toni Rubio,
The Black Dice,
Joyce Sims,
DJ Sneak,
Deepchord,
Surgeon,
Brick,
The Slits,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.