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 Mexico and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Circle Jerks to the disco 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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Teenage Jesus and the Jerks 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Victims,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Pretty Things,
10cc,
Bluetip,
Soft Cell,
The Moody Blues,
The Five Americans,
Derrick Morgan,
Lou Reed,
Quando Quango,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Leaves,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fela Kuti,
Neu!,
Ossler,
Lakeside,
Monolake,
the Slits,
Symarip,
Donny Hathaway,
Toni Rubio,
The Offenders,
The New Christs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bobby Byrd,
Johnny Clarke,
Pantytec,
The Wake,
The Kinks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Byron Stingily,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
John Lydon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Subhumans,
Gang Starr,
Audionom,
Bobby Womack,
The Human League,
Morten Harket,
Adolescents,
Black Flag,
Echospace,
Ronan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Tremeloes,
Mad Mike,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Minnie Riperton,
Oneida,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Motions,
The Velvet Underground,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.