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 Afghanistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ 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 Aural Exciters to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Swans,
Roy Ayers,
Marc Almond,
Heaven 17,
Stereo Dub,
Cymande,
Ultimate Spinach,
Althea and Donna,
Letta Mbulu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Essential Logic,
Dave Gahan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Television Personalities,
Robert Hood,
Sarah Menescal,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Slits,
Desert Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Con Funk Shun,
The Young Rascals,
Adolescents,
Kerrie Biddell,
Slave,
JFA,
Altered Images,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Leaves,
Babytalk,
The Index,
Max Romeo,
Subhumans,
Zero Boys,
The New Christs,
Quando Quango,
John Cale,
Goldenarms,
Monks,
Saccharine Trust,
KRS-One,
Radiohead,
Nas,
Maurizio,
Anthony Braxton,
The Last Poets,
Marmalade,
Talk Talk,
X-Ray Spex,
John Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
Funkadelic,
Glambeats Corp.,
Excepter,
Cheater Slicks,
D'Angelo,
Howard Jones,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Hill,
The Gap Band,
Yaz,
Buzzcocks,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.