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 Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Holger Czukay 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 Graham Central Station to the techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Vladislav Delay. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
L. Decosne,
The Five Americans,
Popol Vuh,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Blues Magoos,
Rakim,
Los Fastidios,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Loose Ends,
Jesper Dahlback,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Harpers Bizarre,
D'Angelo,
Nik Kershaw,
Brand Nubian,
The Saints,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Grey Daturas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sex Pistols,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Flamin' Groovies,
Maurizio,
Vainqueur,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Mojo Men,
James White and The Blacks,
The Monks,
Swans,
Bill Wells,
Deadbeat,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shuggie Otis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mary Jane Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Jeru the Damaja,
Make Up,
Dark Day,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Black Bananas,
Sam Rivers,
Graham Central Station,
Sarah Menescal,
Danielle Patucci,
Agent Orange,
Basic Channel,
Reagan Youth,
Ronnie Foster,
Easy Going,
Brass Construction,
The American Breed,
Pulsallama,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sugar Minott,
Franke,
Jeff Mills,
the Human League,
Sun Ra,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.