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 Canada and from Edmonton.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Calgary.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Jawbox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Amon Düül,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Litter,
Slick Rick,
Kurtis Blow,
Circle Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tim Buckley,
The Red Krayola,
John Cale,
Gastr Del Sol,
JFA,
Minnie Riperton,
Silicon Teens,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Monks,
Livin' Joy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Young Rascals,
Young Marble Giants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chrome,
a-ha,
Bob Dylan,
Malaria!,
Saccharine Trust,
The Knickerbockers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Victims,
Mo-Dettes,
Wally Richardson,
The Searchers,
The Index,
Blossom Toes,
The Residents,
Pole,
Main Source,
Peter & Gordon,
Mandrill,
Au Pairs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Zero Boys,
UT,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Faraquet,
The Slackers,
The Divine Comedy,
Joyce Sims,
Drexciya,
Fear,
Sarah Menescal,
Andrew Hill,
Charles Mingus,
Essential Logic,
Donny Hathaway,
Subhumans,
Alphaville,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Human League, the Human League, the Human League, the Human League.
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.