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 Zimbabwe and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 oboe 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the crunk 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron 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?
X-Ray Spex,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Matthew Halsall,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Colin Newman,
Mission of Burma,
Pantaleimon,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Interpol,
Symarip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scott Walker,
X-101,
Nik Kershaw,
UT,
Electric Prunes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
Alison Limerick,
48th St. Collective,
Motorama,
Negative Approach,
Popol Vuh,
Average White Band,
Panda Bear,
The Litter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
This Heat,
Steve Hackett,
These Immortal Souls,
John Holt,
Siglo XX,
Au Pairs,
The Real Kids,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kenny Larkin,
John Foxx,
Infiniti,
Organ,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Derrick Morgan,
In Retrospect,
Wasted Youth,
The Grass Roots,
Agitation Free,
Cluster,
U.S. Maple,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Charles Mingus,
Arthur Verocai,
Pylon,
The New Christs,
Eurythmics,
Hoover,
Agent Orange,
Andrew Hill,
The Moleskins,
Chrome,
The Wake,
The Index,
Ossler,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.