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 Tuvalu and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Eddi Front to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Duran Duran 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?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Dirtbombs,
The J.B.'s,
Warsaw,
Easy Going,
Man Parrish,
Severed Heads,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fugazi,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dark Day,
Heaven 17,
MDC,
Robert Hood,
The American Breed,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Tim Buckley,
Cameo,
The Moody Blues,
Brand Nubian,
Organ,
Eden Ahbez,
The Smoke,
Accadde A,
Popol Vuh,
Brass Construction,
Ornette Coleman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Association,
Liliput,
Depeche Mode,
The Raincoats,
John Holt,
The Evens,
The Birthday Party,
Jandek,
Barrington Levy,
Television,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Charles Mingus,
Bang On A Can,
Wings,
Nils Olav,
10cc,
The Human League,
Mark Hollis,
Deadbeat,
The Offenders,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hashim,
Wolf Eyes,
Kayak,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Marc Almond,
LL Cool J,
Skaos,
The Five Americans,
Soulsonic Force,
Fear,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.