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 Finland and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Sandy B to the jazz 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Stereo Dub tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
The Raincoats,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moody Blues,
Deadbeat,
June of 44,
Kenny Larkin,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultimate Spinach,
Alice Coltrane,
Brand Nubian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Human League,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scratch Acid,
Tears for Fears,
the Bar-Kays,
The Tremeloes,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Organ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Isaac Hayes,
the Soft Cell,
Nirvana,
Simply Red,
Leonard Cohen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Intrusion,
B.T. Express,
The Evens,
Man Parrish,
Matthew Bourne,
The Durutti Column,
H. Thieme,
Danielle Patucci,
The Seeds,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Yaz,
Slick Rick,
Colin Newman,
Tommy Roe,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Tres Demented,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Marvin Gaye,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pagans,
CMW,
Royal Trux,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Skatalites,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Terrestrial Tones,
Buzzcocks,
Niagra,
Pussy Galore,
Cheater Slicks,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.