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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharoah Sanders to the funk 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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Talk Talk record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bill Near,
Aural Exciters,
Kerri Chandler,
Joe Smooth,
Bootsy Collins,
Q65,
The Busters,
Scan 7,
The Slits,
Brass Construction,
Mars,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Visage,
Suicide,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Toasters,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Donald Byrd,
Flash Fearless,
Buzzcocks,
The Searchers,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cameo,
Country Teasers,
Junior Murvin,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sugar Minott,
X-101,
Arab on Radar,
Sixth Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Bronski Beat,
Leonard Cohen,
Pussy Galore,
Scratch Acid,
Henry Cow,
Rakim,
The Cowsills,
Mantronix,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eden Ahbez,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Last Poets,
UT,
Surgeon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Graham Central Station,
The Index,
Fugazi,
Ralphi Rosario,
Adolescents,
EPMD,
the Bar-Kays,
Moebius,
H. Thieme,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.