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 Guinea-Bissau and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Toronto.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Stooges to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kurtis Blow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Mission of Burma,
Connie Case,
Bush Tetras,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Excepter,
Sexual Harrassment,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Leonard Cohen,
Tears for Fears,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Velvet Underground,
Gong,
The Young Rascals,
Basic Channel,
Stereo Dub,
the Normal,
Eric Dolphy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Laurel Aitken,
Q and Not U,
Qualms,
the Bar-Kays,
Dead Boys,
48th St. Collective,
The Cure,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ten City,
Godley & Creme,
Slick Rick,
Derrick May,
Gang of Four,
Don Cherry,
The Misunderstood,
Roxette,
Pagans,
Oneida,
the Sonics,
Index,
Danielle Patucci,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Tres Demented,
John Cale,
Sonny Sharrock,
June of 44,
Kerrie Biddell,
Section 25,
Monks,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Unwound,
Gichy Dan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Fluxion,
Byron Stingily,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Black Dice,
Cecil Taylor,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.