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 Israel and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare 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 Procol Harum to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Basic Channel. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Wyatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Suicide,
The Motions,
James White and The Blacks,
Faust,
The Mojo Men,
Sixth Finger,
China Crisis,
Tim Buckley,
The Velvet Underground,
Dorothy Ashby,
Flash Fearless,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Second Layer,
ABC,
Roger Hodgson,
La Düsseldorf,
Ronan,
48th St. Collective,
Joy Division,
Shoche,
The Doors,
Jeff Mills,
Fad Gadget,
Agent Orange,
Motorama,
Michelle Simonal,
John Lydon,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scratch Acid,
Ice-T,
Stiv Bators,
D'Angelo,
Cymande,
Severed Heads,
The Sound,
Neu!,
Toni Rubio,
Marine Girls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Prince Buster,
Yusef Lateef,
X-Ray Spex,
Robert Hood,
Camouflage,
Babytalk,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Erykah Badu,
Davy DMX,
Kayak,
Pierre Henry,
Godley & Creme,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pussy Galore,
Iggy Pop,
R.M.O.,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Colin Newman,
Bill Near,
Dark Day,
Bill Wells,
The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels, The Beau Brummels.
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.