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 Austria and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Delhi.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 48th St. Collective to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fortunes,
Juan Atkins,
The Star Department,
the Germs,
Robert Hood,
DJ Sneak,
Stereo Dub,
The Angels of Light,
PIL,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
AZ,
The Remains,
Pet Shop Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Max Romeo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Oneida,
The Smiths,
John Foxx,
Ossler,
Metal Thangz,
Au Pairs,
Groovy Waters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Velvet Underground,
Basic Channel,
Interpol,
MDC,
Sugar Minott,
T. Rex,
The Fire Engines,
Gichy Dan,
Jawbox,
The Names,
Ultra Naté,
B.T. Express,
Ultimate Spinach,
David McCallum,
Brand Nubian,
Cheater Slicks,
Pharoah Sanders,
Joy Division,
D'Angelo,
Tres Demented,
L. Decosne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Robert Görl,
Cal Tjader,
Deadbeat,
Thee Headcoats,
Panda Bear,
Funkadelic,
Wings,
the Association,
Althea and Donna,
Trumans Water,
Kurtis Blow,
Massinfluence,
Robert Wyatt,
Marine Girls,
The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks, The Kinks.
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.