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 Swaziland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Tehran and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord 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 Minnie Riperton to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oblivians record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
Tears for Fears,
The Red Krayola,
Q65,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Symarip,
The Searchers,
Reagan Youth,
Spandau Ballet,
Pulsallama,
Tropical Tobacco,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mandrill,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Sheep,
David Bowie,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gang Green,
Roxette,
Marine Girls,
Letta Mbulu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Graham Central Station,
Bobby Sherman,
Sugar Minott,
Fugazi,
Motorama,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rhythm & Sound,
Country Teasers,
Groovy Waters,
Sex Pistols,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
CMW,
Mission of Burma,
Dead Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
Johnny Osbourne,
Michelle Simonal,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slits,
June Days,
Glenn Branca,
Soulsonic Force,
Frankie Knuckles,
T.S.O.L.,
Sun City Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The New Christs,
Rites of Spring,
Grey Daturas,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
a-ha,
Radiohead,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Selecter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Mary Jane Girls,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle, Throbbing Gristle.
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.