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 Cambodia and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Trojans to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Mars,
The Angels of Light,
Cymande,
Siglo XX,
Man Parrish,
Radio Birdman,
Henry Cow,
Sight & Sound,
Soft Machine,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
Amazonics,
The Fall,
The Star Department,
Infiniti,
Jeff Lynne,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Junior Murvin,
Dave Gahan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Reuben Wilson,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Camouflage,
The Real Kids,
Sun City Girls,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Kinks,
Visage,
Subhumans,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cowsills,
The Move,
The Durutti Column,
Sparks,
Procol Harum,
L. Decosne,
Eric Copeland,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
MC5,
Heaven 17,
Yazoo,
Jeff Mills,
The Monks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Selecter,
The Red Krayola,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Martian,
Trumans Water,
Ludus,
Massinfluence,
These Immortal Souls,
Minor Threat,
Severed Heads,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Dirtbombs,
The Monochrome Set,
Don Cherry,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
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.