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 Kiribati and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lyon.
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 marimba 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 Vladislav Delay to the rock 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Ultimate Spinach,
Erykah Badu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Names,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Charles Mingus,
The Happenings,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ralphi Rosario,
Chris Corsano,
The Mojo Men,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Quantec,
Soft Cell,
Pylon,
Whodini,
F. McDonald,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hashim,
Tears for Fears,
Erasure,
Bluetip,
T. Rex,
Joyce Sims,
Delta 5,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sight & Sound,
Tom Boy,
Monolake,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Monochrome Set,
cv313,
Marmalade,
Tropical Tobacco,
DJ Style,
Iggy Pop,
Cheater Slicks,
Crash Course in Science,
Mandrill,
Skriet,
The Toasters,
Anthony Braxton,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kaleidoscope,
Vladislav Delay,
Mission of Burma,
Godley & Creme,
Isaac Hayes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Delon & Dalcan,
Big Daddy Kane,
EPMD,
Kayak,
The Dirtbombs,
Warren Ellis,
Faraquet,
Goldenarms,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scrapy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Buzzcocks,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.