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 Monaco 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 Fugazi to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Godley & Creme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Rapeman,
Harpers Bizarre,
Popol Vuh,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rakim,
The Fugs,
Adolescents,
Lou Reed,
Piero Umiliani,
John Lydon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Nico,
Cal Tjader,
Pantytec,
Blake Baxter,
Fela Kuti,
Rod Modell,
Television,
Barrington Levy,
Sound Behaviour,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jacob Miller,
The Birthday Party,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Pop Group,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fad Gadget,
Country Teasers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Buckinghams,
Stereo Dub,
Maurizio,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scan 7,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blancmange,
Trumans Water,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Soulsonic Force,
Faust,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Kerri Chandler,
The Cramps,
Average White Band,
Funky Four + One,
The Happenings,
Cluster,
Sonic Youth,
Lalann,
Ornette Coleman,
Basic Channel,
Pulsallama,
Gang Starr,
Gerry Rafferty,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Qualms,
Todd Terry,
Icehouse,
The Gun Club,
Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music, Roxy Music.
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.