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 St Lucia and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Banda Bassotti to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Larry & the Blue Notes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Depeche Mode,
The Count Five,
Cymande,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Kool Moe Dee,
Drexciya,
Arab on Radar,
Magazine,
Trumans Water,
Supertramp,
Spandau Ballet,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sugar Minott,
Faust,
The Smoke,
Fluxion,
Motorama,
Hasil Adkins,
Donny Hathaway,
Chris Corsano,
The Invisible,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lalann,
Alphaville,
Minor Threat,
The Remains,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Shuggie Otis,
Boredoms,
Qualms,
The Gories,
Tomorrow,
Bush Tetras,
The Evens,
Ludus,
Mission of Burma,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Interpol,
Bobby Womack,
Oblivians,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sonic Youth,
The Mummies,
Wolf Eyes,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Pus,
Man Parrish,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
This Heat,
The Litter,
The Music Machine,
Smog,
Gerry Rafferty,
Dark Day,
Parry Music,
The Grass Roots,
The Monochrome Set,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.