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 Estonia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 arpeggiator 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the techno 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 Pole. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
The Fuzztones,
Glenn Branca,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun City Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
Heaven 17,
Infiniti,
UT,
World's Most,
DNA,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Derrick Morgan,
Mr. Review,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sällskapet,
Pere Ubu,
Nick Fraelich,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gang Green,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Gladiators,
Ponytail,
Audionom,
The Toasters,
The Walker Brothers,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Amon Düül II,
Steve Hackett,
The Fire Engines,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Residents,
Sugar Minott,
Juan Atkins,
Altered Images,
Ralphi Rosario,
Electric Prunes,
Johnny Clarke,
Amon Düül,
Ossler,
the Swans,
Tres Demented,
Letta Mbulu,
The Move,
X-101,
Chris Corsano,
The Divine Comedy,
The Grass Roots,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Vladislav Delay,
Monks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Blake Baxter,
Terry Callier,
Clear Light,
ABC,
Pet Shop Boys,
Simply Red,
Absolute Body Control,
Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas, Rufus Thomas.
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.