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 Burkina and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 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 Mark Hollis to the electroclash 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vaughan Mason & Crew record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
Harry Pussy,
Peter and Kerry,
Alphaville,
10cc,
Moss Icon,
Aswad,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Magma,
Boogie Down Productions,
JFA,
Eden Ahbez,
Bill Wells,
Howard Jones,
Magazine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Ituana,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Association,
Marine Girls,
Tres Demented,
Kurtis Blow,
Nas,
the Soft Cell,
Scrapy,
Erasure,
Kerri Chandler,
Masters at Work,
FM Einheit,
Franke,
Moebius,
Dark Day,
Cal Tjader,
the Germs,
Shuggie Otis,
Colin Newman,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
Lou Christie,
Pharoah Sanders,
Laurel Aitken,
Dorothy Ashby,
Lalann,
E-Dancer,
The Golliwogs,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantytec,
Visage,
Gerry Rafferty,
China Crisis,
Donald Byrd,
Wally Richardson,
Stereo Dub,
Gichy Dan,
Make Up,
Can,
The Gories,
Loose Ends,
Crash Course in Science,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.