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 Luxembourg and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Crooked Eye to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Crime,
Brand Nubian,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Fad Gadget,
Von Mondo,
Don Cherry,
Smog,
Tres Demented,
World's Most,
The Flesh Eaters,
Maleditus Sound,
Goldenarms,
Subhumans,
The New Christs,
Organ,
The Slackers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rekid,
Swans,
Ultra Naté,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Certain Ratio,
The Wake,
Bang On A Can,
Prince Buster,
Rod Modell,
Flamin' Groovies,
Camberwell Now,
the Slits,
Pagans,
Heaven 17,
Sun Ra,
The Martian,
The Moody Blues,
the Bar-Kays,
Loose Ends,
Maurizio,
Television,
Can,
Mars,
The Real Kids,
Gang Green,
Mad Mike,
Colin Newman,
Radiohead,
Boogie Down Productions,
June of 44,
8 Eyed Spy,
Pantytec,
Arab on Radar,
Royal Trux,
John Lydon,
Nils Olav,
Procol Harum,
Jawbox,
Faust,
Circle Jerks,
The Happenings,
The Victims,
Dawn Penn,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.