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 Indonesia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Copenhagen.
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 David Bowie 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 Silicon Teens to the rock 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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Model 500,
Girls At Our Best!,
Carl Craig,
The Grass Roots,
Gong,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fatback Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Monks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sun Ra,
Scan 7,
Lakeside,
Fela Kuti,
Faraquet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
John Cale,
Wally Richardson,
Grandmaster Flash,
Malaria!,
Jacques Brel,
Nas,
X-101,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Star Department,
The Raincoats,
The Invisible,
F. McDonald,
Groovy Waters,
Los Fastidios,
a-ha,
Donald Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
The Stooges,
Chrome,
Franke,
Rapeman,
Stockholm Monsters,
Morten Harket,
The Smiths,
Ohio Players,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Audionom,
Intrusion,
Aloha Tigers,
Yusef Lateef,
The American Breed,
Fad Gadget,
The Young Rascals,
Danielle Patucci,
Bronski Beat,
Prince Buster,
Minutemen,
AZ,
Soft Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Letta Mbulu,
Flipper,
Little Man,
Terry Callier,
Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians, Oblivians.
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.