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 Liberia and from Accra.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Suicide 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Count Five record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
F. McDonald,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Pop Group,
Desert Stars,
Von Mondo,
John Holt,
the Soft Cell,
Smog,
The Star Department,
Sandy B,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
ABBA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Trojans,
The Gories,
Darondo,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Crooked Eye,
Kayak,
The Fortunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Vogues,
Roxy Music,
Soft Cell,
the Germs,
The Last Poets,
Infiniti,
Blossom Toes,
Eddi Front,
Erykah Badu,
Avey Tare,
Idris Muhammad,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Altered Images,
The Skatalites,
Q65,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Associates,
Scrapy,
Rotary Connection,
Franke,
Ice-T,
David Bowie,
Warsaw,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Victims,
Juan Atkins,
Aaron Thompson,
Barbara Tucker,
Funkadelic,
Loose Ends,
New Order,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Birthday Party,
Sixth Finger,
Bronski Beat,
Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers, Sam Rivers.
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.