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 East Timor and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Reagan Youth to the crunk 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Mark Hollis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four 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 mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
The Smoke,
Sam Rivers,
Hashim,
Procol Harum,
Carl Craig,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Swans,
Severed Heads,
Skriet,
The Associates,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Royal Trux,
Wasted Youth,
Mantronix,
The Pop Group,
Neu!,
Second Layer,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Stereo Dub,
Minnie Riperton,
Rotary Connection,
The Cramps,
The Buckinghams,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kayak,
Barrington Levy,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Slackers,
Hot Snakes,
Yusef Lateef,
John Holt,
Groovy Waters,
DJ Style,
The Residents,
Amazonics,
Reagan Youth,
Black Pus,
Jacques Brel,
R.M.O.,
Supertramp,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ponytail,
Ultimate Spinach,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Suicide,
Intrusion,
Dennis Brown,
The Divine Comedy,
Althea and Donna,
Quantec,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cluster,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Organ,
Traffic Nightmare,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.