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 Saudi Arabia and from New York.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum 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 Rufus Thomas to the punk 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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & Metallica 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
The Sound,
Smog,
Delon & Dalcan,
Buzzcocks,
The Stooges,
Icehouse,
Amon Düül,
Agent Orange,
Minnie Riperton,
Surgeon,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Sonics,
Porter Ricks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Absolute Body Control,
X-102,
The Happenings,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The United States of America,
48th St. Collective,
Graham Central Station,
Crispy Ambulance,
kango's stein massive,
Colin Newman,
Anthony Braxton,
Ultra Naté,
Visage,
Harry Pussy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Y Pants,
ABC,
Leonard Cohen,
Cameo,
Blake Baxter,
Isaac Hayes,
E-Dancer,
The Barracudas,
The Gories,
The Mummies,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Urselle,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Robert Hood,
Eve St. Jones,
Man Eating Sloth,
Soft Machine,
Piero Umiliani,
Kurtis Blow,
Fatback Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Michelle Simonal,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Black Pus,
Mandrill,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare,
Robert Görl,
Q65,
Qualms, Qualms, Qualms, Qualms.
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.