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 Mauritius and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sonic Youth to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Minutemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Schoolly D,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mr. Review,
Spoonie Gee,
Deepchord,
Barbara Tucker,
Lyres,
Duran Duran,
Crime,
Wire,
a-ha,
Television,
Funky Four + One,
Goldenarms,
Wings,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Quadrant,
The Remains,
Inner City,
The Red Krayola,
Delta 5,
Judy Mowatt,
ABC,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lungfish,
Jeff Mills,
Ornette Coleman,
Aural Exciters,
Wally Richardson,
Matthew Halsall,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Slits,
Magma,
Neu!,
The Neon Judgement,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Zero Boys,
Derrick May,
Heaven 17,
Soul Sonic Force,
Q65,
Erykah Badu,
Robert Wyatt,
Talk Talk,
Grandmaster Flash,
Tim Buckley,
Echospace,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hashim,
The Standells,
Gang Green,
Eddi Front,
Ohio Players,
Terry Callier,
Bush Tetras,
Essential Logic,
Buzzcocks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.