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 Peru and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 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 David Bowie to the crunk 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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
Robert Wyatt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pantytec,
Colin Newman,
This Heat,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crooked Eye,
Lower 48,
Arcadia,
Eddi Front,
Jawbox,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gun Club,
Radio Birdman,
The Zeros,
John Coltrane,
The Knickerbockers,
Tomorrow,
Surgeon,
Ultra Naté,
48th St. Collective,
Blancmange,
Delta 5,
Juan Atkins,
Tubeway Army,
Simply Red,
Cecil Taylor,
Rakim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eric Dolphy,
The Angels of Light,
Das Ding,
Clear Light,
Sonny Sharrock,
LL Cool J,
Underground Resistance,
Marcia Griffiths,
Hashim,
Banda Bassotti,
the Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Soft Machine,
John Holt,
Susan Cadogan,
Lalann,
Pagans,
The Raincoats,
Curtis Mayfield,
Y Pants,
Fugazi,
The Count Five,
Boz Scaggs,
Grauzone,
the Swans,
Soft Cell,
World's Most,
Eden Ahbez,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.