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 United Kingdom and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 808 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 Lyres to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Crispy Ambulance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Iggy Pop,
Graham Central Station,
The Slits,
Cymande,
The Angels of Light,
Cluster,
Bobby Womack,
Oneida,
Stiv Bators,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scion,
Mad Mike,
Pagans,
Bob Dylan,
Lalo Schifrin,
48th St. Collective,
Deepchord,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Zeros,
Moebius,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rites of Spring,
Jeff Lynne,
Isaac Hayes,
Neil Young,
Lou Reed,
The Sound,
Bill Near,
Rotary Connection,
Lightning Bolt,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Negative Approach,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Accadde A,
Dual Sessions,
The Star Department,
Depeche Mode,
Pulsallama,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Shuggie Otis,
The Pretty Things,
Intrusion,
Mr. Review,
CMW,
Fela Kuti,
Eric Copeland,
The Beau Brummels,
Delta 5,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Agent Orange,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sixth Finger,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.