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 Angola and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Janne Schatter to the grime 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Vaughan Mason & Crew tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wasted Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Skaos,
Tomorrow,
Matthew Bourne,
Colin Newman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Zero Boys,
The Moleskins,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Walker Brothers,
The Leaves,
Ornette Coleman,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roxette,
Yazoo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tres Demented,
Robert Wyatt,
Von Mondo,
Pierre Henry,
The Toasters,
Interpol,
Talk Talk,
Ludus,
The Index,
Dark Day,
Alison Limerick,
Derrick May,
Gang of Four,
Kenny Larkin,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gong,
Depeche Mode,
Black Sheep,
Franke,
Porter Ricks,
Mad Mike,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kurtis Blow,
Alton Ellis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Nas,
The Velvet Underground,
Lalann,
Bad Manners,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Au Pairs,
Gastr Del Sol,
Danielle Patucci,
Sarah Menescal,
Jeff Mills,
Neil Young,
Buzzcocks,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.