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 Namibia and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Young Rascals to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dead C,
Rotary Connection,
Mad Mike,
Ronnie Foster,
Lebanon Hanover,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Roxette,
Swell Maps,
Desert Stars,
Blake Baxter,
Y Pants,
The Moleskins,
Sam Rivers,
Tommy Roe,
Main Source,
Soft Cell,
Magma,
Loose Ends,
Saccharine Trust,
Popol Vuh,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bootsy Collins,
Terrestrial Tones,
Fat Boys,
The Tremeloes,
Joe Smooth,
Index,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Circle Jerks,
the Bar-Kays,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mary Jane Girls,
Shuggie Otis,
The Last Poets,
Henry Cow,
X-101,
Flipper,
Qualms,
X-102,
Suburban Knight,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sex Pistols,
Quando Quango,
New York Dolls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Minnie Riperton,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Visage,
Groovy Waters,
Sun City Girls,
Nirvana,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Erykah Badu,
The Modern Lovers,
MC5,
Guru Guru,
Mission of Burma,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.