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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Suburban Knight to the electroclash 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Index,
D'Angelo,
Y Pants,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Boredoms,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dead C,
Moebius,
The Tremeloes,
Jeff Mills,
Tears for Fears,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wire,
Bob Dylan,
Vladislav Delay,
Ludus,
Yazoo,
Little Man,
Interpol,
Dennis Brown,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lyres,
The Happenings,
Porter Ricks,
The Dirtbombs,
The Last Poets,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Busters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Can,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Raincoats,
cv313,
Infiniti,
Visage,
The Saints,
Sun City Girls,
Cheater Slicks,
The Smoke,
The Monks,
Ituana,
Lightning Bolt,
Talk Talk,
The Sonics,
Radio Birdman,
Symarip,
Grauzone,
Juan Atkins,
Pharoah Sanders,
Saccharine Trust,
La Düsseldorf,
Excepter,
The Slits,
Nation of Ulysses,
Goldenarms,
Arthur Verocai,
Radiohead,
T.S.O.L.,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.