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 Dominican Republic and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Duran Duran to the grunge 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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
The Raincoats,
Siglo XX,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pylon,
Make Up,
Aloha Tigers,
The Sonics,
the Slits,
Smog,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Move,
Al Stewart,
Whodini,
The Saints,
Robert Hood,
Symarip,
Surgeon,
Swans,
Soft Cell,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cecil Taylor,
Television Personalities,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Buckinghams,
Peter & Gordon,
Barrington Levy,
Althea and Donna,
The Human League,
Brand Nubian,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronnie Foster,
Skriet,
Roy Ayers,
The Fire Engines,
The Residents,
UT,
The Knickerbockers,
Underground Resistance,
Panda Bear,
Moby Grape,
Babytalk,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
LL Cool J,
Derrick May,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonic Youth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mummies,
Cal Tjader,
Popol Vuh,
Nik Kershaw,
The Misunderstood,
Jawbox,
Arthur Verocai,
Minutemen,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pierre Henry,
Rapeman,
Gang Gang Dance,
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.