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 Panama and from Calgary.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare 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 Bush Tetras to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Danielle Patucci,
Roy Ayers,
Television Personalities,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Christie,
The Angels of Light,
Malaria!,
Bluetip,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marine Girls,
The Five Americans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Circle Jerks,
Aloha Tigers,
Wire,
The Evens,
Crispian St. Peters,
In Retrospect,
The Associates,
Masters at Work,
The Durutti Column,
8 Eyed Spy,
Spandau Ballet,
Soulsonic Force,
The Zeros,
Swell Maps,
Mandrill,
Aaron Thompson,
ABC,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
John Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
The Electric Prunes,
Chris & Cosey,
R.M.O.,
Derrick May,
Henry Cow,
The Doors,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fat Boys,
AZ,
The Trojans,
Reagan Youth,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Stooges,
Black Pus,
the Soft Cell,
The Real Kids,
Pussy Galore,
Black Moon,
Stetsasonic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Darondo,
Brass Construction,
June Days,
Suicide,
Bob Dylan,
The Motions,
Country Teasers,
Judy Mowatt,
Delta 5,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.