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 Grenada and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 arpeggiator 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 48th St. Collective to the dance 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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
Animal Collective,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scratch Acid,
Lebanon Hanover,
Deakin,
48th St. Collective,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Black Dice,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Aaron Thompson,
Ultra Naté,
Clear Light,
Hot Snakes,
Goldenarms,
Oblivians,
Lyres,
Flipper,
Blake Baxter,
The Raincoats,
New Order,
Eric Dolphy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Spandau Ballet,
Surgeon,
The Happenings,
Qualms,
The Searchers,
the Soft Cell,
Supertramp,
Fat Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Rites of Spring,
Lucky Dragons,
David Bowie,
D'Angelo,
Television,
The Divine Comedy,
Livin' Joy,
10cc,
Connie Case,
Gastr Del Sol,
Severed Heads,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Pussy Galore,
Joy Division,
Second Layer,
Sonny Sharrock,
Moby Grape,
Terry Callier,
Graham Central Station,
The Doors,
Make Up,
Piero Umiliani,
The Golliwogs,
F. McDonald,
Sixth Finger,
Icehouse,
The Neon Judgement,
Nas,
Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke, Johnny Clarke.
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.