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 Turkmenistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 The Grass Roots to the dance 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All X-Ray Spex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Desert Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vladislav Delay,
The Kinks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bill Near,
Connie Case,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dennis Brown,
The Mojo Men,
The Fall,
Adolescents,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Mission of Burma,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Donald Byrd,
Minutemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Amon Düül,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mantronix,
Subhumans,
Gang Green,
Amon Düül II,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Cell,
Michelle Simonal,
Joe Finger,
Kas Product,
Von Mondo,
The American Breed,
Sarah Menescal,
Cymande,
Black Bananas,
Can,
The Gories,
John Coltrane,
Isaac Hayes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sugar Minott,
a-ha,
Liliput,
The Cowsills,
Eric B and Rakim,
Intrusion,
Lebanon Hanover,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Offenders,
New York Dolls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Icehouse,
Fear,
Hoover,
OOIOO,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ken Boothe,
World's Most,
Infiniti,
Roxette,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.