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 Tonga and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 arpeggiator 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 Index to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Monks,
The Angels of Light,
The Five Americans,
The Fugs,
Wasted Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Reagan Youth,
Outsiders,
Marcia Griffiths,
Quando Quango,
Henry Cow,
A Flock of Seagulls,
48th St. Collective,
The Walker Brothers,
Zapp,
Slick Rick,
Bauhaus,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Kinks,
The Real Kids,
Scientists,
Amon Düül,
Minnie Riperton,
Big Daddy Kane,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Swans,
Patti Smith,
Yaz,
Angry Samoans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Cheater Slicks,
The Remains,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ronnie Foster,
Deepchord,
James White and The Blacks,
Rekid,
The Fire Engines,
New Age Steppers,
Scott Walker,
the Human League,
Bill Wells,
Aural Exciters,
Rufus Thomas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Michelle Simonal,
Nico,
The Barracudas,
Tim Buckley,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
La Düsseldorf,
Bob Dylan,
The New Christs,
Bad Manners,
Gang Starr,
Urselle,
New Order,
Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48, Lower 48.
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.