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 Sweden and from Mexico City.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 synthesizer 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 Moebius to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantytec,
Deepchord,
Traffic Nightmare,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Golliwogs,
Cameo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bluetip,
Freddie Wadling,
The Neon Judgement,
Unwound,
Index,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lalann,
Barbara Tucker,
Derrick Morgan,
Make Up,
Man Parrish,
Amon Düül,
Suicide,
Josef K,
The Happenings,
Panda Bear,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brand Nubian,
Mary Jane Girls,
Circle Jerks,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lightning Bolt,
The J.B.'s,
Fad Gadget,
The Fortunes,
the Slits,
Ornette Coleman,
Marine Girls,
Prince Buster,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bang On A Can,
Camouflage,
Vainqueur,
Con Funk Shun,
New Order,
Leonard Cohen,
Faraquet,
Alice Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moleskins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Funky Four + One,
The Last Poets,
Scrapy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
David McCallum,
The Human League,
Kayak,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.