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 Ethiopia and from Halifax.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 The Blackbyrds to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
ABC,
Supertramp,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Depeche Mode,
Visage,
Bobby Womack,
Easy Going,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rosa Yemen,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sam Rivers,
New York Dolls,
Gabor Szabo,
Japan,
Iggy Pop,
Soulsonic Force,
Warsaw,
Harmonia,
The Doors,
The Index,
The Barracudas,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Trumans Water,
The Durutti Column,
The Wake,
Severed Heads,
T.S.O.L.,
Roxette,
Morten Harket,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gil Scott Heron,
Dual Sessions,
Sun Ra,
Half Japanese,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Aural Exciters,
EPMD,
Rhythm & Sound,
Siglo XX,
the Sonics,
Section 25,
Crooked Eye,
Angry Samoans,
New Age Steppers,
Soft Cell,
Al Stewart,
The Trojans,
Kenny Larkin,
Aaron Thompson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Aloha Tigers,
Donny Hathaway,
Masters at Work,
Moss Icon,
Wally Richardson,
Urselle,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.