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 Gambia and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the oboe 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 Terrestrial Tones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cheater Slicks. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Henry Cow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cramps,
Glenn Branca,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tomorrow,
Yazoo,
X-Ray Spex,
Crispy Ambulance,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bobby Womack,
Pole,
Chrome,
Livin' Joy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Eric Copeland,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Slick Rick,
Rod Modell,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ituana,
Index,
Junior Murvin,
JFA,
Public Enemy,
T. Rex,
Peter & Gordon,
Josef K,
F. McDonald,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Coltrane,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stetsasonic,
Masters at Work,
Terry Callier,
Swell Maps,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Qualms,
X-102,
Guru Guru,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Technova,
Thee Headcoats,
Scan 7,
Leonard Cohen,
The Standells,
John Foxx,
The Remains,
June Days,
Inner City,
U.S. Maple,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Move,
Eric B and Rakim,
48th St. Collective,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Mummies,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ten City,
Sparks,
David Bowie,
Lucky Dragons,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.