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 Kyrgyzstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flamin' Groovies 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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Minnie Riperton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
The Saints,
Aloha Tigers,
Nas,
kango's stein massive,
Severed Heads,
The Durutti Column,
JFA,
Grey Daturas,
B.T. Express,
Dark Day,
Pantaleimon,
Black Moon,
Lungfish,
Adolescents,
The Gun Club,
Steve Hackett,
The Moleskins,
The Music Machine,
10cc,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barry Ungar,
The Alarm Clocks,
Black Sheep,
Cecil Taylor,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Flash Fearless,
Bill Wells,
The Electric Prunes,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Pus,
Donald Byrd,
X-Ray Spex,
The Searchers,
The Fire Engines,
Wolf Eyes,
Scion,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Banda Bassotti,
Monolake,
Isaac Hayes,
Sound Behaviour,
Moss Icon,
The Techniques,
The Fuzztones,
Altered Images,
Joy Division,
Derrick Morgan,
Royal Trux,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
Y Pants,
Morten Harket,
Eddi Front,
Hardrive,
Fat Boys,
The Happenings,
Hot Snakes,
Oblivians,
Camouflage,
The Pop Group,
Underground Resistance,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.