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 Bhutan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 rhodes 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 Bob Dylan 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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maleditus Sound 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Chris Corsano,
The J.B.'s,
The Pretty Things,
R.M.O.,
Amon Düül,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fire Engines,
Inner City,
The Leaves,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bill Wells,
Sound Behaviour,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
New Order,
New York Dolls,
Stetsasonic,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pagans,
John Holt,
The Zeros,
Porter Ricks,
Hardrive,
Wasted Youth,
Brass Construction,
Desert Stars,
the Human League,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Flesh Eaters,
Thompson Twins,
X-101,
the Germs,
The Real Kids,
H. Thieme,
Clear Light,
Darondo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wolf Eyes,
The Human League,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Selecter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fugazi,
Boogie Down Productions,
Brick,
U.S. Maple,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Alarm Clocks,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Excepter,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Pulsallama,
The Standells,
Sex Pistols,
The Slackers,
Panda Bear,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hoover,
Pussy Galore,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.