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 Angola and from Manchester.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 marimba 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 Tom Boy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Sherman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hardrive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Agent Orange,
The Index,
The Busters,
The Young Rascals,
Faust,
Arcadia,
Scott Walker,
Yazoo,
Robert Wyatt,
Godley & Creme,
Black Sheep,
Crash Course in Science,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Grass Roots,
Stiv Bators,
Black Pus,
Blancmange,
Nik Kershaw,
Von Mondo,
The Fortunes,
Thee Headcoats,
Mad Mike,
Michelle Simonal,
The Monks,
The Dead C,
Tom Boy,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash,
Lower 48,
Slave,
Derrick May,
Average White Band,
Trumans Water,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Red Krayola,
Mary Jane Girls,
Unwound,
Con Funk Shun,
DJ Sneak,
Echospace,
ABBA,
Alton Ellis,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sixth Finger,
Fat Boys,
Dark Day,
Massinfluence,
Severed Heads,
Anakelly,
Index,
Suburban Knight,
Althea and Donna,
Juan Atkins,
Cal Tjader,
Jeff Lynne,
Moby Grape,
Cecil Taylor,
Agitation Free,
Skriet,
Das Ding,
Urselle,
The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins, The Moleskins.
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.