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 Laos and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Stiv Bators to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Gong. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James Chance & The Contortions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Zeros,
Sex Pistols,
X-102,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rosa Yemen,
Ralphi Rosario,
Byron Stingily,
Little Man,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fugs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fire Engines,
Terry Callier,
The Electric Prunes,
T.S.O.L.,
The Real Kids,
Loose Ends,
Soft Machine,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Hot Snakes,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Masters at Work,
Deadbeat,
Television,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Beau Brummels,
Rotary Connection,
Brothers Johnson,
Tim Buckley,
Parry Music,
Y Pants,
Henry Cow,
The Divine Comedy,
Hardrive,
Alphaville,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Marmalade,
Letta Mbulu,
Funkadelic,
The Angels of Light,
Morten Harket,
The Durutti Column,
Big Daddy Kane,
Theoretical Girls,
Joy Division,
Ice-T,
Max Romeo,
Blancmange,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sight & Sound,
Fat Boys,
Alice Coltrane,
Excepter,
The Music Machine,
Sparks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Youth Brigade,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.