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 Montenegro and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Pantaleimon to the electroclash 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 Bob Dylan. All the underground hits.
All Quadrant tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scan 7,
Pylon,
The Techniques,
Masters at Work,
Cecil Taylor,
Crispy Ambulance,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Liliput,
The Blues Magoos,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Holt,
Ultra Naté,
Buzzcocks,
Outsiders,
Moby Grape,
Mark Hollis,
Jeff Mills,
Glambeats Corp.,
Newcleus,
The Grass Roots,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Glenn Branca,
Slick Rick,
Adolescents,
New Order,
Tim Buckley,
The Offenders,
Ralphi Rosario,
Moebius,
Skriet,
Black Bananas,
Darondo,
Laurel Aitken,
Lalann,
Soul Sonic Force,
Mantronix,
The Slackers,
Nils Olav,
Yellowson,
Q and Not U,
The Flesh Eaters,
Infiniti,
Anthony Braxton,
Barry Ungar,
Model 500,
Grey Daturas,
Drexciya,
Eric Copeland,
Jacques Brel,
David McCallum,
Johnny Osbourne,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Barrington Levy,
Throbbing Gristle,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sixth Finger,
Dawn Penn,
Desert Stars,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.