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 South Africa and from Calgary.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 organ 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 Heaven 17 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
48th St. Collective,
Parry Music,
Curtis Mayfield,
Magma,
Japan,
New York Dolls,
Wire,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Black Bananas,
Television,
Joey Negro,
Urselle,
Niagra,
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Hill,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
Liliput,
The Last Poets,
Lightning Bolt,
Al Stewart,
Donald Byrd,
The Beau Brummels,
The Smoke,
Banda Bassotti,
Ohio Players,
Godley & Creme,
Terrestrial Tones,
Letta Mbulu,
Piero Umiliani,
The Moleskins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Angels of Light,
Fear,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Sheep,
The Names,
Brick,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Altered Images,
JFA,
Arcadia,
Johnny Clarke,
Sällskapet,
Trumans Water,
In Retrospect,
The Invisible,
Little Man,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funkadelic,
Whodini,
Spandau Ballet,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.