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 Denmark and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fifty Foot Hose 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 Don Cherry. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Remains record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gong,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Almond,
Tears for Fears,
The Offenders,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Panda Bear,
Television Personalities,
Sex Pistols,
The Fuzztones,
Buzzcocks,
Pierre Henry,
Cybotron,
Boz Scaggs,
Eddi Front,
Harmonia,
The Tremeloes,
Hot Snakes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rites of Spring,
Tom Boy,
Basic Channel,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Curtis Mayfield,
Yusef Lateef,
Bizarre Inc.,
Zero Boys,
The Gun Club,
Roxette,
Leonard Cohen,
Niagra,
Altered Images,
L. Decosne,
Charles Mingus,
The New Christs,
Average White Band,
Kas Product,
Blossom Toes,
Roxy Music,
Max Romeo,
Pylon,
Dorothy Ashby,
Minnie Riperton,
E-Dancer,
The Sonics,
Magazine,
The Real Kids,
La Düsseldorf,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sixth Finger,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Divine Comedy,
Letta Mbulu,
Scan 7,
Flamin' Groovies,
Warren Ellis,
The Vogues,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Jesper Dahlback,
Arcadia,
Supertramp,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.