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 Gambia and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 rhodes 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the dance 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ken Boothe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
The Pretty Things,
The Fall,
Moebius,
Cal Tjader,
The Associates,
Darondo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Gories,
Prince Buster,
Marc Almond,
Loose Ends,
Sixth Finger,
Sight & Sound,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Los Fastidios,
Surgeon,
Young Marble Giants,
The Evens,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Barbara Tucker,
Country Teasers,
Brothers Johnson,
Brand Nubian,
Vladislav Delay,
Sun City Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Can,
Royal Trux,
Marine Girls,
Smog,
Negative Approach,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ronnie Foster,
Rites of Spring,
The Kinks,
Warsaw,
Guru Guru,
K-Klass,
The Red Krayola,
Symarip,
Adolescents,
Eddi Front,
Gastr Del Sol,
Supertramp,
Judy Mowatt,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Section 25,
Popol Vuh,
Bush Tetras,
The Victims,
Motorama,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bluetip,
Index,
Newcleus,
Albert Ayler,
Connie Case,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.