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 Papua New Guinea and from Taipei.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Residents to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Goldenarms,
Wings,
Magazine,
Camouflage,
Rosa Yemen,
Nick Fraelich,
Alice Coltrane,
Lebanon Hanover,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Inner City,
the Swans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Whodini,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Cure,
X-Ray Spex,
David McCallum,
Stetsasonic,
The Angels of Light,
Procol Harum,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Happenings,
Lungfish,
D'Angelo,
Main Source,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Bananas,
Adolescents,
Shoche,
Ten City,
Kenny Larkin,
Von Mondo,
Dennis Brown,
Maleditus Sound,
Moebius,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Unrelated Segments,
Anakelly,
The Count Five,
Don Cherry,
The Sonics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Reuben Wilson,
Skaos,
Yazoo,
Kayak,
The Toasters,
Yusef Lateef,
Nik Kershaw,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eve St. Jones,
The Evens,
the Bar-Kays,
Minny Pops,
Duran Duran,
Nirvana,
Niagra,
Slick Rick,
Eden Ahbez,
The Moleskins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.