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 Grenada and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 June of 44 to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All The Cosmic Jokers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Infiniti,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Pantaleimon,
Vladislav Delay,
Alice Coltrane,
Maurizio,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marine Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Black Dice,
Urselle,
Todd Terry,
The Standells,
The Fugs,
Judy Mowatt,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pussy Galore,
Roxy Music,
Symarip,
Main Source,
Arthur Verocai,
Chris Corsano,
Goldenarms,
Drexciya,
Dead Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Black Sheep,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Hot Snakes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Terrestrial Tones,
Kool Moe Dee,
kango's stein massive,
CMW,
Amazonics,
One Last Wish,
Sister Nancy,
Erykah Badu,
Grauzone,
Bobby Sherman,
Mantronix,
The Mummies,
Motorama,
Wolf Eyes,
Underground Resistance,
The Divine Comedy,
The Moleskins,
The Move,
Joe Finger,
Altered Images,
Susan Cadogan,
Marc Almond,
Smog,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Second Layer,
Magma,
Idris Muhammad,
The Leaves,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Throbbing Gristle,
Cymande,
Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic, Stetsasonic.
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.