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 Hungary and from Johannesburg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Normal to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
The Names,
The Five Americans,
Wolf Eyes,
Dennis Brown,
T. Rex,
Rotary Connection,
Intrusion,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick May,
Scott Walker,
Spandau Ballet,
Talk Talk,
Chris & Cosey,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
These Immortal Souls,
The Fuzztones,
Arthur Verocai,
James White and The Blacks,
Amon Düül II,
The Litter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marmalade,
Masters at Work,
ABBA,
Robert Hood,
Silicon Teens,
Sugar Minott,
Eve St. Jones,
Dead Boys,
Lightning Bolt,
Accadde A,
Jacob Miller,
The Saints,
Funkadelic,
Q65,
OOIOO,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Real Kids,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
The Leaves,
Nik Kershaw,
The Smiths,
Easy Going,
The Black Dice,
The Pop Group,
Alton Ellis,
X-Ray Spex,
Adolescents,
Letta Mbulu,
The United States of America,
John Holt,
Todd Terry,
Davy DMX,
Eddi Front,
The Misunderstood,
Nas,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.