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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 The Cure to the jazz 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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Animal Collective,
Mark Hollis,
Quantec,
Young Marble Giants,
The Fuzztones,
Gichy Dan,
R.M.O.,
Minor Threat,
PIL,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Section 25,
Q65,
the Germs,
The Raincoats,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Hutcherson,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Minutemen,
Reagan Youth,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
June Days,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Saints,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Parry Music,
The Tremeloes,
Sugar Minott,
Eden Ahbez,
Gerry Rafferty,
Livin' Joy,
The Human League,
Ultra Naté,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sex Pistols,
Ultimate Spinach,
E-Dancer,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Bluetip,
Radio Birdman,
Arcadia,
Funkadelic,
Soft Machine,
Amon Düül,
L. Decosne,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Nirvana,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scan 7,
JFA,
Shuggie Otis,
Qualms,
The Alarm Clocks,
Thompson Twins,
Man Parrish,
Derrick May,
Lower 48,
Althea and Donna,
the Normal,
Donald Byrd,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lalo Schifrin,
The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs, The New Christs.
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.