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 Paraguay and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 spring reverb 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Funkadelic,
AZ,
The Martian,
Amazonics,
Scott Walker,
Ronan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joey Negro,
Theoretical Girls,
The Sonics,
The United States of America,
Buzzcocks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Robert Görl,
Clear Light,
Girls At Our Best!,
Robert Hood,
Iggy Pop,
The Seeds,
Oblivians,
the Sonics,
Jeff Mills,
Symarip,
Glambeats Corp.,
Popol Vuh,
ABBA,
Essential Logic,
Royal Trux,
Faraquet,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sonic Youth,
Godley & Creme,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neu!,
Saccharine Trust,
Monks,
Surgeon,
Maurizio,
Nirvana,
Dead Boys,
Groovy Waters,
Animal Collective,
The Five Americans,
Rufus Thomas,
T.S.O.L.,
Youth Brigade,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gun Club,
The Grass Roots,
Big Daddy Kane,
Barbara Tucker,
The Last Poets,
Sandy B,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Quando Quango,
Dark Day,
Banda Bassotti,
Fluxion,
Radio Birdman,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.