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 Kazakhstan and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 spring reverb 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 The United States of America to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 AZ. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Mark Hollis,
Liliput,
David McCallum,
The Toasters,
Sound Behaviour,
Camouflage,
Soft Cell,
Yusef Lateef,
Talk Talk,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Normal,
Organ,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Flag,
John Cale,
Joey Negro,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Mojo Men,
The Count Five,
Bad Manners,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Hoover,
Gang Green,
The Knickerbockers,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Lou Reed,
The Gladiators,
Joe Finger,
Model 500,
Icehouse,
Vainqueur,
Juan Atkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
48th St. Collective,
The Fall,
World's Most,
The Walker Brothers,
Charles Mingus,
Dave Gahan,
Archie Shepp,
Symarip,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
Sugar Minott,
Bauhaus,
Circle Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
Harry Pussy,
Sarah Menescal,
Gichy Dan,
Duran Duran,
Flamin' Groovies,
Supertramp,
Banda Bassotti,
Ornette Coleman,
Donald Byrd,
Buzzcocks,
Matthew Halsall,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.