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 Gambia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the punk 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 The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Khruangbin,
Wasted Youth,
Kas Product,
Aswad,
The Fuzztones,
Alton Ellis,
Bill Wells,
David McCallum,
Blake Baxter,
Mr. Review,
Agitation Free,
Joy Division,
Joey Negro,
Hoover,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
Aural Exciters,
The Music Machine,
Nirvana,
Eric B and Rakim,
Young Marble Giants,
Agent Orange,
The Cure,
Donald Byrd,
Moby Grape,
The Neon Judgement,
Reagan Youth,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Minor Threat,
Sonny Sharrock,
Suburban Knight,
Tim Buckley,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Gap Band,
Spoonie Gee,
Mad Mike,
Isaac Hayes,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Doors,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Busters,
The Young Rascals,
Negative Approach,
Supertramp,
Sparks,
Connie Case,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Trumans Water,
Von Mondo,
Joyce Sims,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Womack,
Patti Smith,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Duran Duran,
The Searchers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.