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 Kazakhstan and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Donald Fagen 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 Real Kids to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Clear Light,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Alphaville,
Carl Craig,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Depeche Mode,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Bourne,
The Toasters,
Spandau Ballet,
Mandrill,
Masters at Work,
Tears for Fears,
Tubeway Army,
Massinfluence,
Don Cherry,
The Black Dice,
The Human League,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Suburban Knight,
Kurtis Blow,
Das Ding,
The Wake,
Mary Jane Girls,
Roy Ayers,
Joe Finger,
The Fortunes,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aaron Thompson,
Thompson Twins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Robert Görl,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Bill Wells,
Symarip,
Banda Bassotti,
Moby Grape,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marine Girls,
Crooked Eye,
Chris Corsano,
the Association,
Scratch Acid,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rufus Thomas,
Vladislav Delay,
Lungfish,
The Seeds,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Christie,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mission of Burma,
Rekid,
The Blues Magoos,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Public Enemy,
Duran Duran,
Todd Rundgren,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Gories,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.