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 Turkmenistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Newcleus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joe Finger,
Parry Music,
Heaven 17,
Black Bananas,
Slave,
This Heat,
World's Most,
Average White Band,
the Sonics,
The Cramps,
Amazonics,
the Normal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Darondo,
Howard Jones,
Los Fastidios,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Y Pants,
The Toasters,
Youth Brigade,
Marc Almond,
Sandy B,
Bob Dylan,
EPMD,
Scott Walker,
Reagan Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Vogues,
Ralphi Rosario,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Archie Shepp,
John Holt,
One Last Wish,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Visage,
David McCallum,
Lightning Bolt,
Cluster,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pharoah Sanders,
DJ Sneak,
Sugar Minott,
The Beau Brummels,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mo-Dettes,
Bad Manners,
Vainqueur,
The Human League,
Agent Orange,
Byron Stingily,
The Detroit Cobras,
Aloha Tigers,
Colin Newman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pere Ubu,
Nik Kershaw,
DNA,
Charles Mingus,
New Order,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.