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 Kenya and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Edmonton and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 punk 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 Gastr Del Sol. All the underground hits.
All Lucky Dragons tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every MDC record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Wells record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Cluster,
Harmonia,
Newcleus,
ABBA,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Busters,
Rekid,
Bobby Womack,
Duran Duran,
The Blackbyrds,
Main Source,
Yellowson,
Magazine,
Amazonics,
Bob Dylan,
MC5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Barry Ungar,
Ronan,
Joe Finger,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Funky Four + One,
Dark Day,
Blancmange,
Animal Collective,
Skarface,
Connie Case,
David McCallum,
The Mummies,
Wolf Eyes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wasted Youth,
Rod Modell,
Sparks,
Suburban Knight,
Sarah Menescal,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Real Kids,
Al Stewart,
The Remains,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Talk Talk,
The Gun Club,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Swans,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Black Pus,
Judy Mowatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Warsaw,
Urselle,
The Young Rascals,
Q65,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lalann,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bobby Byrd,
Sister Nancy,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.