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 Tuvalu and from Winnipeg.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobby Womack to the grunge 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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Derrick May record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jerry Gold Smith,
Hashim,
Girls At Our Best!,
Interpol,
John Holt,
Joensuu 1685,
Pharoah Sanders,
Royal Trux,
Sister Nancy,
Bill Near,
Iggy Pop,
Carl Craig,
Clear Light,
Joyce Sims,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Victims,
Funkadelic,
Section 25,
PIL,
Harry Pussy,
The Wake,
One Last Wish,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Anthony Braxton,
Suicide,
These Immortal Souls,
Mantronix,
Yazoo,
Max Romeo,
Thee Headcoats,
New York Dolls,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Slits,
Excepter,
Nico,
Trumans Water,
Goldenarms,
The Blackbyrds,
Glambeats Corp.,
Connie Case,
Howard Jones,
Marine Girls,
Alison Limerick,
Pierre Henry,
Black Pus,
Deadbeat,
Maleditus Sound,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cecil Taylor,
Little Man,
The Gories,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Country Teasers,
Minor Threat,
Easy Going,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
ABC,
John Lydon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
R.M.O.,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.