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 Spain and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Derrick May to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a China Crisis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Ten City,
Crooked Eye,
Fear,
Toni Rubio,
The Star Department,
The Names,
The Moody Blues,
The Cramps,
Steve Hackett,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Suburban Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
The Leaves,
H. Thieme,
X-101,
Vainqueur,
F. McDonald,
Minnie Riperton,
Youth Brigade,
Intrusion,
Model 500,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lindisfarne,
Shuggie Otis,
the Bar-Kays,
Jacob Miller,
Joyce Sims,
Oneida,
Judy Mowatt,
The Move,
Arab on Radar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The American Breed,
Eve St. Jones,
Dave Gahan,
Barry Ungar,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Reuben Wilson,
Bauhaus,
FM Einheit,
Al Stewart,
Liliput,
LL Cool J,
Thompson Twins,
Average White Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-102,
Popol Vuh,
Mary Jane Girls,
E-Dancer,
Buzzcocks,
Oblivians,
Tomorrow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Donny Hathaway,
the Sonics,
The Zeros,
Josef K,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cymande, Cymande, Cymande, Cymande.
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.