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 Nigeria and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 rhodes 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All DJ Style tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Beasts of Bourbon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
Gregory Isaacs,
Charles Mingus,
Suburban Knight,
Rufus Thomas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Roxette,
Clear Light,
Ornette Coleman,
ABBA,
Motorama,
FM Einheit,
Sixth Finger,
Davy DMX,
Skarface,
Archie Shepp,
The Fire Engines,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Sound,
Das Ding,
Dual Sessions,
Junior Murvin,
Pere Ubu,
Accadde A,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Bluetip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Q65,
Rosa Yemen,
Ohio Players,
Swans,
Kerri Chandler,
Wire,
Shoche,
Talk Talk,
Lungfish,
Neu!,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ronnie Foster,
Zero Boys,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Theoretical Girls,
Joe Smooth,
The Smiths,
The Young Rascals,
Judy Mowatt,
Suicide,
Laurel Aitken,
48th St. Collective,
Trumans Water,
Scratch Acid,
Byron Stingily,
The Beau Brummels,
Funkadelic,
Morten Harket,
Darondo,
Mad Mike,
LL Cool J,
Model 500,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.