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 Slovakia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Delhi.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Agitation Free,
Tomorrow,
The Count Five,
Dead Boys,
The Gun Club,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pere Ubu,
Darondo,
Saccharine Trust,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Stockholm Monsters,
Au Pairs,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare,
James White and The Blacks,
Barry Ungar,
Stetsasonic,
Bobby Byrd,
Interpol,
Lalann,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marcia Griffiths,
Youth Brigade,
Yellowson,
Second Layer,
Altered Images,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultravox,
Dorothy Ashby,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
David McCallum,
Skaos,
UT,
Dave Gahan,
Electric Prunes,
Steve Hackett,
Fatback Band,
Whodini,
Patti Smith,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mr. Review,
B.T. Express,
Jerry's Kids,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Litter,
Procol Harum,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pylon,
Lakeside,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bang On A Can,
Tommy Roe,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sparks,
Sister Nancy,
Erykah Badu,
Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul, Soul II Soul.
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.