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 South Africa and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Robert Palmer 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 It's A Beautiful Day to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry's Kids,
Bang On A Can,
The Vogues,
John Lydon,
Tommy Roe,
Jeff Lynne,
Lungfish,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Popol Vuh,
Deepchord,
Gerry Rafferty,
kango's stein massive,
Terry Callier,
Fugazi,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Roger Hodgson,
Maurizio,
June of 44,
Guru Guru,
Patti Smith,
Danielle Patucci,
Michelle Simonal,
Mary Jane Girls,
Minny Pops,
Rhythm & Sound,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Cure,
Ice-T,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jimmy McGriff,
Massinfluence,
Lou Christie,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Victims,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultravox,
The Moleskins,
Judy Mowatt,
Buzzcocks,
Monks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nas,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scion,
Black Moon,
Derrick May,
Roxy Music,
The Gun Club,
Sandy B,
The Monochrome Set,
Panda Bear,
Joe Smooth,
Stiv Bators,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.