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 Germany and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Holger Czukay 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 Franke to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Agitation Free tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Victims record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
Fluxion,
The Blues Magoos,
Kenny Larkin,
Pantaleimon,
Underground Resistance,
The Techniques,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mr. Review,
Ultimate Spinach,
Franke,
Gang of Four,
Liliput,
Fad Gadget,
Blossom Toes,
The Dirtbombs,
Dennis Brown,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Camberwell Now,
Agitation Free,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Country Teasers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crime,
Marcia Griffiths,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Donny Hathaway,
F. McDonald,
Sparks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Move,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Alarm Clocks,
the Germs,
Darondo,
Patti Smith,
the Fania All-Stars,
Spoonie Gee,
The Leaves,
Blake Baxter,
The Remains,
Jacques Brel,
Soft Cell,
E-Dancer,
Peter and Kerry,
Lungfish,
Sällskapet,
Sun Ra,
Delon & Dalcan,
Rhythm & Sound,
Quantec,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
X-102,
Alice Coltrane,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cheater Slicks,
The Neon Judgement,
The Dead C,
Dark Day,
Bronski Beat,
Gang Gang Dance,
Los Fastidios,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.