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 Antigua and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Piero Umiliani to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Banda Bassotti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Music Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Eurythmics,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scientists,
Motorama,
Malaria!,
X-Ray Spex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Wyatt,
The Barracudas,
Fear,
Gregory Isaacs,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Hoover,
Camberwell Now,
James White and The Blacks,
Eli Mardock,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brand Nubian,
Grey Daturas,
Nik Kershaw,
Kas Product,
The Techniques,
The Kinks,
Sound Behaviour,
Public Enemy,
Crash Course in Science,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Slits,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Raincoats,
DNA,
The Tremeloes,
Kaleidoscope,
Arthur Verocai,
Bill Wells,
Graham Central Station,
the Swans,
Interpol,
Thompson Twins,
Black Pus,
Bob Dylan,
The Real Kids,
Zapp,
Rod Modell,
Radio Birdman,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Drive Like Jehu,
Mantronix,
Mr. Review,
John Lydon,
The Busters,
The Five Americans,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Banda Bassotti,
Sarah Menescal,
Kenny Larkin,
Arab on Radar,
Simply Red,
Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II, Amon Düül II.
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.