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 Italy and from New York.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 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 Alphaville 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 John Cale. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Ultra Naté,
Royal Trux,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
B.T. Express,
Delta 5,
Magma,
Roy Ayers,
Zapp,
Jeff Lynne,
X-101,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Goldenarms,
Roxy Music,
Cymande,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amon Düül,
Heaven 17,
The Shadows of Knight,
Josef K,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bronski Beat,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Sisters of Mercy,
R.M.O.,
Joy Division,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Man Parrish,
Trumans Water,
Yazoo,
Marmalade,
Ultravox,
Glambeats Corp.,
Charles Mingus,
Dawn Penn,
Matthew Bourne,
Rapeman,
Motorama,
Whodini,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Selecter,
Kurtis Blow,
The Modern Lovers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Yellowson,
Desert Stars,
Pole,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
New York Dolls,
Jeru the Damaja,
Byron Stingily,
L. Decosne,
Y Pants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Harry Pussy,
Agent Orange,
Negative Approach,
Marcia Griffiths,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Joensuu 1685,
Man Eating Sloth,
The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s, The J.B.'s.
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.