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 Argentina and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin 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 Robert Wyatt to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All The Trojans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Motorama,
Oblivians,
Gong,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Young Rascals,
Camouflage,
Cybotron,
The United States of America,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
T. Rex,
The Dead C,
The Residents,
Colin Newman,
Jerry's Kids,
Harry Pussy,
Agitation Free,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ronan,
Judy Mowatt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Soft Cell,
The Sound,
Eddi Front,
Barrington Levy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Minor Threat,
Lalo Schifrin,
Chrome,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
F. McDonald,
Byron Stingily,
The Index,
Jandek,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Offenders,
Man Parrish,
Fluxion,
John Foxx,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Stetsasonic,
Charles Mingus,
10cc,
Drexciya,
Glenn Branca,
Section 25,
Black Moon,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Massinfluence,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lightning Bolt,
Dawn Penn,
Can,
Lindisfarne,
Anthony Braxton,
Goldenarms,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Human League,
Aaron Thompson,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.