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 Portugal and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Von Mondo,
Saccharine Trust,
Country Teasers,
Magma,
The Busters,
Sällskapet,
Cluster,
Josef K,
Subhumans,
Bobby Sherman,
Pagans,
Henry Cow,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Peter & Gordon,
Bush Tetras,
Sly & The Family Stone,
PIL,
CMW,
Robert Görl,
Das Ding,
Massinfluence,
Masters at Work,
The Monochrome Set,
Gong,
Stereo Dub,
Fatback Band,
Unwound,
DJ Sneak,
Little Man,
Index,
The Invisible,
The Leaves,
Eurythmics,
Man Parrish,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Womack,
Robert Hood,
Nico,
Ponytail,
Joy Division,
Ludus,
Hashim,
Pharoah Sanders,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Yusef Lateef,
Moebius,
Visage,
Wire,
Nation of Ulysses,
Radiohead,
Y Pants,
K-Klass,
Anakelly,
Arthur Verocai,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gabor Szabo,
David Axelrod,
The Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Depeche Mode,
Delon & Dalcan,
Erasure,
Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach, Negative Approach.
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.