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 Swaziland and from Hong Kong.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 spring reverb 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 Bronski Beat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Raincoats. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Cluster,
Moebius,
Swell Maps,
Marc Almond,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ornette Coleman,
Dead Boys,
AZ,
T.S.O.L.,
Sällskapet,
The Real Kids,
Arab on Radar,
Ponytail,
The Happenings,
Iggy Pop,
UT,
Stetsasonic,
Magazine,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pharoah Sanders,
kango's stein massive,
Alton Ellis,
Guru Guru,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stiv Bators,
Bluetip,
Idris Muhammad,
Black Sheep,
Susan Cadogan,
Dennis Brown,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Swans,
Khruangbin,
Tubeway Army,
Cecil Taylor,
Tomorrow,
Radiohead,
Kenny Larkin,
Judy Mowatt,
John Lydon,
Altered Images,
Eric Dolphy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Blues Magoos,
Ultra Naté,
Marcia Griffiths,
CMW,
The Names,
Rod Modell,
Thompson Twins,
Andrew Hill,
Inner City,
Qualms,
Television,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.