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 Mali and from Calgary.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ornette Coleman to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott Heron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Pussy Galore,
Half Japanese,
L. Decosne,
Bang On A Can,
The Buckinghams,
New York Dolls,
John Cale,
Cecil Taylor,
the Bar-Kays,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ralphi Rosario,
Shoche,
Junior Murvin,
Faraquet,
The Last Poets,
Eli Mardock,
Bobby Byrd,
The Index,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Nirvana,
Los Fastidios,
Amon Düül II,
Colin Newman,
Tomorrow,
Cymande,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Joe Finger,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
Jeff Mills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
B.T. Express,
The Gories,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Yusef Lateef,
The Durutti Column,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
F. McDonald,
Harry Pussy,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Slits,
Rakim,
Bobby Womack,
Basic Channel,
Blossom Toes,
Lindisfarne,
These Immortal Souls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Niagra,
John Foxx,
Sexual Harrassment,
Chris Corsano,
The Misunderstood,
Ronnie Foster,
Davy DMX,
Q65,
Shuggie Otis,
Deadbeat,
Spandau Ballet,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.