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 Thailand and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Donald Fagen 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 Residents to the funk 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 Grauzone. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five 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 a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Roxette,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Man Parrish,
Wally Richardson,
The Star Department,
Scientists,
Silicon Teens,
The Toasters,
Black Sheep,
Jacob Miller,
Harmonia,
Derrick Morgan,
John Lydon,
Pantytec,
Wire,
Black Bananas,
Country Teasers,
Nation of Ulysses,
Thee Headcoats,
Guru Guru,
Icehouse,
L. Decosne,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lou Reed,
the Bar-Kays,
Inner City,
New Order,
Yaz,
Gabor Szabo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Vogues,
Subhumans,
The Martian,
Altered Images,
La Düsseldorf,
Mark Hollis,
ABC,
Outsiders,
Babytalk,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rites of Spring,
The Neon Judgement,
Index,
Radio Birdman,
Andrew Hill,
kango's stein massive,
Pere Ubu,
Ornette Coleman,
Juan Atkins,
Donald Byrd,
Ronan,
Sister Nancy,
Hot Snakes,
Wolf Eyes,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.