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 South Sudan and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 marimba 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 Rod Modell to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 the Normal. All the underground hits.
All Blake Baxter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rekid,
Television,
John Holt,
Electric Prunes,
Prince Buster,
The Music Machine,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Brick,
Nick Fraelich,
Procol Harum,
Subhumans,
The Last Poets,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Au Pairs,
Eve St. Jones,
Franke,
Barry Ungar,
Slave,
Sixth Finger,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Golliwogs,
The Raincoats,
Depeche Mode,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kenny Larkin,
Marmalade,
Nico,
The Stooges,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Qualms,
Japan,
The Real Kids,
Eric Dolphy,
Delon & Dalcan,
R.M.O.,
the Human League,
Graham Central Station,
Ponytail,
Barbara Tucker,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tommy Roe,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Althea and Donna,
Heaven 17,
Television Personalities,
The Doors,
The Gun Club,
Yusef Lateef,
Roxette,
Dead Boys,
Unrelated Segments,
U.S. Maple,
The Dead C,
Kevin Saunderson,
Peter and Kerry,
Theoretical Girls,
Black Flag,
Leonard Cohen,
Tomorrow,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.