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 Seychelles and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Curtis Mayfield to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Christie record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
PIL,
The Star Department,
Smog,
Ronnie Foster,
Brass Construction,
Television,
Swell Maps,
Wire,
The Leaves,
The Monks,
Flash Fearless,
Cecil Taylor,
X-Ray Spex,
Lou Reed,
Amazonics,
Crime,
Graham Central Station,
Sister Nancy,
Throbbing Gristle,
10cc,
Gang Starr,
Sight & Sound,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
Alice Coltrane,
Nick Fraelich,
Barbara Tucker,
Nas,
Moss Icon,
Funky Four + One,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Prunes,
Chrome,
T.S.O.L.,
OOIOO,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pantytec,
Reuben Wilson,
Newcleus,
Tommy Roe,
John Cale,
Sun City Girls,
Josef K,
Gabor Szabo,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Mummies,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bluetip,
Quadrant,
Lower 48,
Magazine,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Golliwogs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Robert Wyatt,
Quando Quango,
The Slits,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Don Cherry,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.