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 Azerbaijan and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Harry Pussy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Saints,
The Invisible,
Tears for Fears,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Circle Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Parry Music,
Popol Vuh,
Youth Brigade,
Jacob Miller,
The Gladiators,
Tom Boy,
Unwound,
Tomorrow,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Zapp,
Lou Reed,
Wolf Eyes,
Lakeside,
The Fuzztones,
Blancmange,
Jeff Lynne,
The Litter,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Reuben Wilson,
Fugazi,
Aaron Thompson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sällskapet,
The Barracudas,
Piero Umiliani,
Sugar Minott,
Von Mondo,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Henry Cow,
Easy Going,
Accadde A,
Massinfluence,
Altered Images,
The Slits,
The Divine Comedy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Kinks,
OOIOO,
New York Dolls,
the Fania All-Stars,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Main Source,
Alphaville,
Bizarre Inc.,
Andrew Hill,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Toasters,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Anthony Braxton,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.