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 Hungary and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 mellotron 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 Dead C to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Outsiders. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Malaria! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gang Green,
Delta 5,
Camberwell Now,
Los Fastidios,
Deadbeat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
David Axelrod,
Urselle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Faust,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The New Christs,
Eli Mardock,
Electric Prunes,
JFA,
The Busters,
Absolute Body Control,
Basic Channel,
Warsaw,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
Mr. Review,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wasted Youth,
Gang of Four,
Icehouse,
Judy Mowatt,
Ossler,
KRS-One,
EPMD,
Scrapy,
Buzzcocks,
Sun Ra,
Jimmy McGriff,
Yellowson,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
New York Dolls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Soft Cell,
Leonard Cohen,
Cecil Taylor,
Todd Rundgren,
Joe Finger,
Lou Reed,
Fear,
Black Flag,
The Pretty Things,
Fluxion,
Boredoms,
The Standells,
Black Pus,
Brand Nubian,
Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic, Essential Logic.
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.