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 Yemen and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Tom Verlaine 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 D'Angelo to the jazz 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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Goldenarms 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Don Cherry,
Inner City,
Peter and Kerry,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang On A Can,
The Kinks,
Agitation Free,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kerrie Biddell,
Talk Talk,
Mo-Dettes,
Man Parrish,
Second Layer,
Pere Ubu,
Banda Bassotti,
Cecil Taylor,
Throbbing Gristle,
Public Enemy,
The Sonics,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Deakin,
The Cramps,
Rufus Thomas,
Yazoo,
The Fortunes,
Flipper,
New Order,
Reuben Wilson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
10cc,
K-Klass,
Scion,
The Red Krayola,
The Raincoats,
Severed Heads,
Wolf Eyes,
Goldenarms,
Alice Coltrane,
Trumans Water,
H. Thieme,
T.S.O.L.,
cv313,
8 Eyed Spy,
The New Christs,
Heaven 17,
The Cowsills,
Neil Young,
Erasure,
Saccharine Trust,
EPMD,
Thee Headcoats,
Arthur Verocai,
Darondo,
Ken Boothe,
Black Bananas,
The Gap Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Ituana,
Bobby Byrd,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
AZ,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.