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 Australia and from Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Rufus Thomas to the electroclash 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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
The Sound,
Byron Stingily,
Leonard Cohen,
Talk Talk,
Michelle Simonal,
Marmalade,
Joe Smooth,
Gil Scott Heron,
U.S. Maple,
Man Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tears for Fears,
Liliput,
Bobby Sherman,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Techniques,
Stetsasonic,
James White and The Blacks,
Prince Buster,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Names,
The American Breed,
the Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
Lakeside,
Chrome,
Chris Corsano,
Faust,
Arab on Radar,
Albert Ayler,
Drive Like Jehu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Alton Ellis,
Absolute Body Control,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arthur Verocai,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
Andrew Hill,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Aloha Tigers,
Bush Tetras,
Adolescents,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Morten Harket,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jeff Lynne,
Porter Ricks,
Lou Reed,
Eddi Front,
The Alarm Clocks,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Television,
Reagan Youth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Fugs,
Rapeman,
The Gladiators,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.