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 Korea South and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Todd Rundgren to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radiopuhelimet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Gang Gang Dance,
Marc Almond,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Move,
The Sonics,
Freddie Wadling,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dennis Brown,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tim Buckley,
Blake Baxter,
Slave,
Bobby Sherman,
Das Ding,
Donny Hathaway,
Moby Grape,
Grandmaster Flash,
Wasted Youth,
Ultra Naté,
Mandrill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Association,
Amon Düül II,
Fat Boys,
Tres Demented,
Excepter,
Boredoms,
Television,
Depeche Mode,
Reuben Wilson,
Aaron Thompson,
Flipper,
Q and Not U,
Aural Exciters,
The Stooges,
Section 25,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Hasil Adkins,
Funky Four + One,
Kas Product,
Swans,
Faust,
Jeff Mills,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Camouflage,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Shuggie Otis,
Grey Daturas,
T.S.O.L.,
the Bar-Kays,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Blues Magoos,
The Gun Club,
Arthur Verocai,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Smog,
Cameo,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Avey Tare,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.