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 Thailand and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Television Personalities to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Saccharine Trust. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sonny Sharrock,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Los Fastidios,
Faust,
Yellowson,
Wire,
Subhumans,
Half Japanese,
Interpol,
The Smiths,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
DNA,
Bauhaus,
Clear Light,
The Names,
Aural Exciters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Slave,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Fortunes,
Nils Olav,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Raincoats,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kool Moe Dee,
Das Ding,
Andrew Hill,
Sällskapet,
Surgeon,
Duran Duran,
Warsaw,
Judy Mowatt,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Ten City,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Zero Boys,
Mad Mike,
Barrington Levy,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Sheep,
Matthew Halsall,
John Coltrane,
ABBA,
Eric Dolphy,
The Leaves,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fuzztones,
Dawn Penn,
Josef K,
Unwound,
Flipper,
Tears for Fears,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Davy DMX,
Man Eating Sloth,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Stooges,
Angry Samoans,
Television,
Black Moon,
Ponytail,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.