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 Czech Republic and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sexual Harrassment to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bluetip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Mighty Diamonds,
Model 500,
Y Pants,
Alison Limerick,
Terry Callier,
Ronan,
Wally Richardson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Severed Heads,
The Buckinghams,
Marine Girls,
Neu!,
Bobbi Humphrey,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fuzztones,
Goldenarms,
Camouflage,
The Beau Brummels,
10cc,
Man Eating Sloth,
Godley & Creme,
Japan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kevin Saunderson,
New Order,
Jesper Dahlback,
Mo-Dettes,
Cluster,
The Cowsills,
Prince Buster,
Deepchord,
The Trojans,
David McCallum,
48th St. Collective,
Desert Stars,
Cecil Taylor,
The Busters,
The Red Krayola,
Rosa Yemen,
Audionom,
Banda Bassotti,
The Litter,
The Divine Comedy,
John Lydon,
Gichy Dan,
Crooked Eye,
Tears for Fears,
Pole,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Moby Grape,
Amazonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eden Ahbez,
Minnie Riperton,
Country Teasers,
Intrusion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Procol Harum,
Siglo XX,
Rhythm & Sound,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Pretty Things,
The Sonics,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.