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 Argentina and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Searchers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel. All the underground hits.
All Piero Umiliani tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Alphaville,
Jerry's Kids,
Funky Four + One,
Todd Rundgren,
Moss Icon,
Archie Shepp,
Boz Scaggs,
Juan Atkins,
In Retrospect,
The Busters,
Second Layer,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
The Pretty Things,
Sun Ra,
This Heat,
Davy DMX,
Arcadia,
The Shadows of Knight,
Man Parrish,
Moby Grape,
Robert Hood,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Selecter,
Sandy B,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Visage,
Glenn Branca,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Amazonics,
Minutemen,
Clear Light,
Jacques Brel,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Flag,
T. Rex,
Robert Wyatt,
The Names,
Freddie Wadling,
the Normal,
The Moody Blues,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Scratch Acid,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rakim,
Dead Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Pulsallama,
Joe Finger,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bill Wells,
R.M.O.,
Joyce Sims,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Tears for Fears,
Public Enemy,
Scion,
Dawn Penn,
Letta Mbulu,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.