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 Papua New Guinea and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 B.T. Express 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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
Pulsallama,
Sun Ra,
Cameo,
The Durutti Column,
Smog,
One Last Wish,
Cecil Taylor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Gil Scott Heron,
LL Cool J,
T.S.O.L.,
The Cowsills,
Lungfish,
Robert Hood,
Leonard Cohen,
Albert Ayler,
Altered Images,
The Tremeloes,
Hot Snakes,
Das Ding,
Country Teasers,
Barrington Levy,
World's Most,
Frankie Knuckles,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Offenders,
The Selecter,
The Slackers,
Yaz,
Fear,
Can,
Cymande,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Symarip,
Intrusion,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gerry Rafferty,
Japan,
The Happenings,
Panda Bear,
Zapp,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Throbbing Gristle,
JFA,
Magma,
Accadde A,
Jeff Mills,
the Slits,
Surgeon,
Eli Mardock,
Amon Düül II,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tommy Roe,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mr. Review,
Franke,
Nico,
Bad Manners,
The Beau Brummels,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sandy B,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.