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 Georgia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 Philadelphia and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Make Up to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nick Fraelich. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Remains record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Marvin Gaye,
Juan Atkins,
Pantaleimon,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gories,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Clear Light,
Brick,
The Remains,
Excepter,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skriet,
Hashim,
Sällskapet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Black Flag,
The Raincoats,
Visage,
Essential Logic,
Siglo XX,
MC5,
Smog,
Wally Richardson,
Black Sheep,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marine Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Susan Cadogan,
Country Teasers,
the Slits,
David Axelrod,
The Divine Comedy,
the Soft Cell,
Heaven 17,
Kerri Chandler,
Skaos,
Quantec,
The Monks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Derrick May,
Max Romeo,
Mission of Burma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Can,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Janne Schatter,
Organ,
New York Dolls,
The Pop Group,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gang Green,
Rod Modell,
The Music Machine,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Monks,
Faraquet,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kaleidoscope,
Matthew Halsall,
Fatback Band,
Skarface, Skarface, Skarface, Skarface.
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.