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 Malawi and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the grunge 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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All The Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mark Hollis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gories record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Bill Near,
B.T. Express,
Jeff Lynne,
La Düsseldorf,
Rapeman,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Flag,
Crash Course in Science,
The Move,
Aural Exciters,
Newcleus,
Patti Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Dead Boys,
Subhumans,
Hoover,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Boredoms,
48th St. Collective,
The Fire Engines,
The Sound,
Rufus Thomas,
D'Angelo,
Ice-T,
Spoonie Gee,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobby Sherman,
Bronski Beat,
Terry Callier,
Magma,
Bobby Womack,
Pussy Galore,
Intrusion,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Scratch Acid,
The Stooges,
Darondo,
Qualms,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fela Kuti,
Can,
Flash Fearless,
The Tremeloes,
Derrick May,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Stereo Dub,
Charles Mingus,
Arab on Radar,
Bluetip,
World's Most,
Marvin Gaye,
Faust,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.