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 Czech Republic and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 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 Barbara Tucker to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All Moss Icon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Cameo,
Boredoms,
Connie Case,
Stetsasonic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Slick Rick,
Fad Gadget,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Minutemen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Boz Scaggs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lyres,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultravox,
Michelle Simonal,
H. Thieme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sandy B,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Spoonie Gee,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Au Pairs,
Colin Newman,
Eddi Front,
Circle Jerks,
Sight & Sound,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Black Dice,
The Blues Magoos,
Quadrant,
Index,
Metal Thangz,
Trumans Water,
Tres Demented,
Second Layer,
Fluxion,
L. Decosne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Scan 7,
Cheater Slicks,
Con Funk Shun,
Arcadia,
Kas Product,
The Modern Lovers,
Deakin,
the Association,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sarah Menescal,
Nico,
Todd Terry,
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marine Girls,
Fatback Band,
Pulsallama,
KRS-One,
The Birthday Party,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.